


Draco Sirius Black

by BingeMac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Canon Compliant, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Gen, Het and Slash, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rated T for Canon-typical Violence and Strong Language, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 211,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9603293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BingeMac/pseuds/BingeMac
Summary: What if Narcissa were dying and decided her son would be better raised by the Lord of her house: Sirius Black. With this one action, how different would life be for the wizarding world? Alliances, relationships, everything could be changed because of one woman's love for her child and one man's determination to grow up.Part 1: CompletePart 2: In Progress





	1. 1:1- Meet Draco

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for language and canon-typical violence

It had been seven months since anyone in England had seen the tall blond woman who just stepped off the night bus in Godric’s Hollow. Cradled in her arms was an equally blond baby boy. She looked down at him with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

The heels of her boots made a steady rhythm as she strode toward the house at the end of the street with purpose. She didn’t even know if he would be there, but she had to hope.

She reached the opening in the fence that outlined the small cottage home and stopped. “How quaint,” she sneered, but quickly scolded herself for looking down upon the family inside. There were worse things than having a small house. She glanced down at the baby wrapped securely in a dark green blanket and clutched him tighter to her body, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She could only pray to the gods that everything would work out.

As she slowly made her way up the stone path to the front door, she had to remind herself that this wasn’t nearly half as frightening as her decision to leave her husband. If she could handle defying him, then she could certainly handle this.

When she was a meter from the door she shifted her son slightly so he could be balanced in her left arm and raised her right fist. She hesitated.

What if he isn’t there? What if they take one look at me and kill me before I can explain? But what choice do I have? There is nowhere else to go and I’m running out of time. I must protect Draco.

And then she knocked. Her hand was shaking something awful and she brought it to her mouth as if it would stop her inner-protests from leaking out and forcing her to change her mind and leave the way she came. She clenched her eyes shut as she felt tears threaten to spill from them and strained her ears to listen for any sound from behind the door. There was the thud of padded feet across wood floor and the click of the latch as someone looked out at her through the peep hole. She willed her eyes to open, but they defied her, so the only thing she could do was wait with bated breath.

There was another sound of the latch falling back into place and of the door being ripped open. The blond woman could feel the cool air rush towards her from inside. Slowly, her eyes slid open and she stared down the end of a willow wood wand.

“What do you want?” The question was cold and incredibly threatening and it took all of her strength not to run.

“Please—“ It was a sob that wracked through her entire body and she couldn’t say more. She blinked back the tears and her eyes focused on the woman behind the wand.

Lily Potter.

Lily’s auburn locks were pulled up into a loose bun and her face bore not a stitch of makeup, but her green eyes were fierce and deadly. Her lips were pressed firmly together which indicated that she meant business. Somehow Lily’s serious expression calmed Narcissa Malfoy. Perhaps she was just far more used to this particular demeanor.

Lily’s gaze finally shifted away and Narcissa only felt a moment of relief before she realized Mrs. Potter’s eyes had landed on the bundle in her arms. Narcissa subconsciously pulled Draco closer to her.

Lily blinked in surprise and when her eyes flicked back up to Narcissa, they were less hostile and more curious. “Who—“

“My son,” Narcissa answered immediately, barely giving Lily a chance to utter the question.

Lily’s hand moved instinctively to her own belly and that’s when Narcissa finally noticed the other witch’s rather large baby bump. It was her turn to blink in surprise. 

“Boy or girl?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Sorry, I— I shouldn’t have—“

“Boy.”

The two women faced each other for some time, neither really knowing what to say. Narcissa couldn’t find her voice to ask what she came to ask, so she just stood there, embarrassingly mute.

“What are you doing here,” Lily inquired again, though far less forcefully. Her wand was still trained resolutely on Narcissa, right over her heart.

Narcissa opened her mouth to answer, faltered, and then tried again. This time she managed to speak. “I need to find Sirius. Is he here?”

“Sirius?” Lily seemed confounded for a moment, but she recovered swiftly. “He stepped out.”

“Oh,” Narcissa squeaked, a cross between disappointment at her cousin not being in at the moment and elation at the context that he would be back later, warring within her. She didn’t want to ask, but the weight in her arms demanded she must. “Could I wait for him… to come back?”

Lily looked to be having an internal argument within herself. Her eyes kept flickering to Draco and eventually one side seemed to win over the other. “Give me your wand and you can wait inside,” Lily demanded.

Narcissa hesitated but conceded to her command. She reached into her robes and held out her wand to the red-haired witch. Lily took it and placed it in the holster on her calf where her own wand must usually be kept. “Right then, come in.”

Narcissa thanked her softly and stepped into the modest two story cottage home.

They both made their way to the living area and Lily indicated a seat which Narcissa took graciously. They sat awkwardly in silence.

“Tea,” Lily offered.

The incredulity of this situation finally hit Narcissa and she laughed. “Sure, that would be lovely.”

It was obvious that the odd situation had also struck Lily who giggled as well. “Alright. Accio tea set.”

When both witches were sipping tea contently, the awkwardness settled back in. Narcissa took this time to look around the simple living room. The furnishings were a light wood and the sofa and chairs were a soft baby blue. There was an odd contraption in the corner of the room that Narcissa had never seen before. It was a black box with two strings protruding from it that each disappeared into the wall.

“What is that,” Narcissa inquired. “Strange looking thing.”

“That’s a television.” Narcissa could hear the smile in Lily’s voice, but she oddly didn’t get offended.

“Oh, I had no idea that was what one looked like,” the blond witch admitted curiously. She cocked her head as if looking at it from a different angle would make it recognizable. “How does it work?”

Surprised by her own question, she turned back to look at Lily whose own eyes were wide with a mix of astonishment and mirth. “Um… well… do you know what electricity is?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well one wire connects the telly to electricity which means you can turn it on— Accio remote— like this.” With the click of a button on the thing Lily had called a remote, the black screen behind her flickered and then there was a man and a women kissing in it’s place. The picture moved, like a wizarding photograph, but there was also the sound of soft music playing in the background.

“Fascinating.” And it truly was. Muggles were far more interesting than her family had ever given them credit for.

“This is an advert for earrings if you can believe it,” Lily explained. “They show things like this during breaks in the actual show or movie that is playing, but I can change the channel, like this—“ Another button was pushed and Narcissa watched the screen flash to a new picture which showed a birds eye view of a green field with white lines criss-crossing it. Scattered across the field were little people running back and forth kicking a black and white sphere.

“What is this?”

“Football. It’s a muggle sport. It’s played kind of like Quiddich I suppose, but on the ground since muggles can’t fly obviously. The goal is to get the ball into the opponent’s net. Each team has a keeper just like in Quiddich, and he’s the only one who can use his hands. Then there are chasers, though that’s not what they are called. However there is no seeker or beaters,” Lily finished.

“I understand why there’s no beaters. It would be rather dangerous for muggles to have to escape a bludger, but if there is no seeker, how do you know the game has ended,” Narcissa asked, slightly perplexed by all this new information.

“There’s a time limit,” Lily answered. “Once the time runs out, the game is over and whichever team has the most points wins.”

“They should have that for Quidditch in my opinion,” Narcissa muttered. “Sometimes those games go on far too long.”

Lily’s chuckle finally had Narcissa turning away from the television. Lily sobered quickly and turned off the telly as yet again the disbelief of this situation had crept back in. 

Narcissa could tell Lily was trying to figure out why she was here asking for Sirius without actually asking. Her emerald gaze roamed over every inch of Narcissa’s body. It was calculating and menacing, but the blond witch let her do as she wished. This was her home and she could do what she pleased.

“He’s quiet,” Lily whispered indicating the sleeping child cradled in Narcissa’s lap.

“Yes, well I believe you caught him at a good time. He was a wailing menace before I left, but I think the night bus actually calmed him,” Narcissa confessed with a snicker.

“You took the night bus here? Why?” Lily’s tone was beyond surprised.

“I— I try not to use too much magic that isn’t wandless. I can call the night bus without my wand but I can’t apparate.”

“Why don’t you use your wand?”

Narcissa couldn’t believe she admitted so much already and naturally wanted to keep from saying more, but then thought better of it. What use is keeping this information to herself now anyway?

“I’m afraid Lucius can have it tracked,” Narcissa rushed out. This wasn’t technically a lie, but it wasn’t completely the truth either. That could wait. “He has powerful allies at the ministry, you see, and with the Dark Lord on his side, one can never… be…” The intake of breath had Narcissa’s voice fading away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Lily said putting on a brave face. “It’s just… been awhile since I’ve heard anyone call him that. Do not worry.”

The uncomfortable feeling set in again and Draco must have sensed it for he awoke with a gurgle. Narcissa leaned down until her face was inches from his and cooed, “Hello my little dragon. Did you sleep well darling?” Narcissa poked his nose and he giggled happily. She smiled widely, but inside she was crying again. It was almost easier to deal with her situation when Draco slept. It felt more like a dream that way.

“What’s his name?”

“Draco,” Narcissa choked out trying to hold back the tears again. She tried to hide her watery eyes as best she could, but Lily must have noticed.

“Are you alright?”

Narcissa wiped at her eyes uselessly. “Fine dear, thank you. Would you like to hold him? For practice?”

“Are you sure,” Lily asked apprehensively.

“Of course. Here.” Narcissa stood and walked around the coffee table until she stood in front of Lily. She lowered Draco into her arms so that he rested above Lily’s baby bump.

Lily flicked her wand and suddenly there was a kerchief in Narcissa’s empty hand. The blonde smiled gratefully and sat down next to the redhead while she dabbed at her eyes. She watched Lily’s face as the woman stared down at the blond boy in her arms.

“Hi Draco,” she whispered before giving a huff of laughter. “Draco, huh? That’s a lovely name, but no doubt you’ll hate it. Sirius always hated his, unless he used it to make a pun, but I always found being named after a constellation to be quite beautiful. See in my family we are all named after flowers. I’ve always hated that. People always assumed my favorite flower was a lily. Ugh, could you imagine? So many lilies given to me by suitors and such. Couldn’t stand it. Well, then I agreed to finally go to Hogsmeade with a certain persistent prat named James Potter. I walked up to him that afternoon and he had a hand behind his back and I was dreading being given more lilies. But when he presented me with the bouquet, they weren’t lilies. They were tulips. Before I could shake off the surprise, he said, ‘I know these are your favorite, but I couldn’t decide on a color so I gave you the rainbow. Is that ok?’ I still don’t know how he knew. Well I married him and now we’re also having a baby who I hope will be just as cute as you.”

Narcissa snorted. “Please, he’ll probably have you’re green eyes and Potter’s dark hair. Girls will be eating out of the palm of his hand.”

Lily laughed heartily and looked up at Narcissa, those piercing green orbs full of wonder and mirth. “Narcissa, I honestly think that is the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Narcissa flushed, embarrassed by her words. “Yes, well, I should have said them sooner.” Narcissa stared down at her beautiful child and ran a finger along his pale cheek. A question came to mind and she suddenly needed to know the answer. “What are you naming him?”

Lily brushed her fingers through the soft wisps of white-blond hair on Draco’s head. “James wants him to be named after his father but… Fleamont?” 

Narcissa grunted in agreement. “Awful.”

“Exactly. So I refused him and he only argued a little. It was adorable, really, that he thought he would get his way. I mean, it took him seven years to convince me to date him.” Lily shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Lucius wanted our son to be named after his father as well. Abraxas. Like I was going to look down at my son and go, ‘Hi there Abraxas, it’s me, Mum.’”

Lily guffawed. “Men are crazy. I think Draco is lovely. Does Lucius like it?”

Both witches stopped smiling at that question. “I wouldn’t know,” Narcissa answered refusing to meet Lily’s eyes. “I didn’t even tell him I was pregnant, let alone what I wanted to name him.”

There was another silence, but it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable. The two women seemed to have reached an odd understanding.

“I was thinking… Harry,” Lily whispered.

Narcissa’s lips quirked as she considered the name. “Harry Potter.” It flowed and Narcissa could picture him. “Yes. It’s perfect.”

The sound of a motorcycle pulling up to the street outside startled Narcissa. She clutched Lily’s hand desperately in a death grip. “Please, just tell me one thing. Draco and Harry… do you think they’ll be friends?”

Lily stared into Narcissa’s eyes, so deep it was like she was staring into her soul. She must have looked desperate, for Lily replied with a simple, “Sure. Of course.”

Narcissa slumped into the light blue cushion in relief and then geared herself up for the next person to walk through the door to shove a wand in her face.

Sirius Black did not disappoint.

***

Sirius leveled his wand at his cousin’s head and demanded, “What are you doing here?”

Narcissa’s eyes were closed and her mouth was pulled into a tight smirk. “Oh Sirius,” she muttered and her eyes shot open to reveal the brilliant blue of her irises. “Don’t you know to never tickle a sleeping dragon?”

“Wha—“ he started to say, but was quickly lost to the memories of his forgotten past.

***

***Seven months earlier***

Another crucio from the lips of his cousin had Sirius Black crippling in pain. To be caught by death eaters was one thing, but to suffer at the hands of his cousin, a girl he grew up with and looked up to and fondly called Bella, was quite another. The cruciatus curse didn’t cut quite as deeply when it came from Dolohov or the Lestrange brothers. Family had never failed to hurt Sirius. They had continued to wound him over and over again and seemed to make it their goal to never let the injuries they inflicted, physical or emotional, heal.

Through the haze of the unforgivable, Sirius could hear Bellatrix laughing maniacally. She was enjoying the pain and Sirius wanted to wretch at the thought. Had she always been like this? Cruel to the point of madness? Depraved and empty and rotten? Evil?

The thoughts whirled around in his head making him even dizzier and his body shuddered with relief as the curse finally ended.

“Sister,” Bella greeted. “How lovely of you to join our little family reunion.” Her voice was vicious and cut Sirius to the bone. It grated on his nerves and he convulsed instinctively, curling in on himself to appear small and weak. 

People tended to underestimate how quickly Sirius could come back after a crucio was thrown his way. It was a gift that the hit wizard learned about swiftly on his first mission. His fellow hit wizards would twitch uncontrollably for hours or sometimes days after being hit with the curse, but not Sirius. He bounced back easily with barely an ache or pain. It was a skill proven quite useful throughout his career.

“Bella,” came Narcissa’s cool, calm voice. “Leave us.”

Sirius blinked in surprise and apparently he wasn’t the only one who was bemused by Mrs. Malfoy’s odd request. Bellatrix exclaimed, “Why should I? I’m in charge of the prisoners Cissy—“

“And this is my home and I am telling you to leave,” Narcissa interrupted icily. “I have a few words for the prisoner and wish to speak with him alone. I believe you understand the rules of the house and that I have primacy here, so you may wait upstairs until I have said what I came to say in the privacy I have a right to.”

Sirius waited, breath caught in his throat as the silence stretched. He had been in the cellar of the Malfoy mansion for three days and his youngest cousin hadn’t come to visit once. He was oddly curious to find out what she had to say. Sirius had a hard time believing he would make it out of this situation alive and he figured anything was better than being tortured until he died. He would listen to Mrs. Malfoy, if only because he wanted a reprieve from everyone else who had come to visit him so far.

“If you wanted to torture him yourself, why didn’t you just say so Cissy,” Bella asked, breaking the silence. “I can never understand why you don’t just say what you want so I don’t have to sort through your thoughts. It’s quite annoying.”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Did Bella just use Legilimency on Narcissa? And if that’s the case, did that mean Cissy actually came down here to torture me? That doesn’t really seem like her.

“Just leave,” Narcissa demanded with a distinct hint of annoyance. “Why you constantly feel the need to search my mind is beyond me, sister. Your lack of trust is distasteful.”

Sirius could practically hear the glares the sisters were shooting at each other. A cold bout of laughter was the only sound that filled the nearly empty cellar before the bang of a door that indicated Bellatrix’s exit.

“Sirius,” Narcissa gushed before he felt the presence of his cousin at his side, her robes brushing across his body. “Are you alright?”

To say that he was surprised would be an understatement. He was beyond baffled by the inquiry and his eyes shot open and stared into the wide, concerned blue eyes of Narcissa Malfoy. “What?” His voice was hoarse from the lack of water he had received, but neither cousin seemed to notice. He was still too stunned and she just looked more distressed by the second.  
“We need to get out of here.”

“What,” Sirius stupidly asked again.

“Oh Sirius,” she whimpered, crumpling to the hard ground until they were eye to eye. 

She’s getting herself all dirty, Sirius mused, and perhaps it was a fair assessment that he had in fact lost his mind as that was a very strange thought in the midst of all the much more important things going on.

“Sirius, I— I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I had to be sure that I had mastered occlumency or Bella would never have left me alone with you, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have been on that side of the door to begin with, but I suppose it’s a little late for that…”

“I… don’t understand,” Sirius muttered in bewilderment. “What’s going on here, Narcissa?”

Rather than answer, his beautiful cousin started sobbing and reached for his hand. Sirius tried his best not to flinch and snatch it away, but failed which only made Narcissa cry harder. “Sirius, please…”

It was the crack in her voice at the plea that broke Sirius. Something was wrong and he steeled himself to be the brave Gryffindor he had proven himself to be time and time again. He brought his hand back down slowly and rested his palm over hers. “What is it, Cissy?”

A small smile graced her lips through the stream of tears. She picked up his hand and brought it to her stomach. “Meet Draco,” she managed to say.

Despite everything, despite the war, the grief and loss, the anger for his family, the fear for his friends, the fact that he was currently locked in a cellar, dehydrated and starving, Sirius smiled and laughed giddily. “Draco, huh? Don’t you think this stupid family tradition has gone on long enough, Cissy?”

Narcissa giggled but it was laced with sadness and fear. “His name will be the least of his worries.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I will tell you later. Please, we must leave, Sirius. Are you—“

“What about your Lord,” Sirius couldn’t help himself ask vehemently. “I’m just supposed to believe that you would betray your husband and Volde—“

The soft thuds against his hand as it rested on his cousin’s slightly swollen belly halted his words and for that brief moment he felt like the world had stopped. He glanced down at the offending hand in awe. He had felt her son kick and nothing else seemed to matter. This was a magic that would never cease to amaze Sirius.

A small gasp escaped Narcissa’s mouth and she grabbed Sirius’s face gently so that he would look at her. “I’ll only give my respect and devotion to one Lord, and that is to the Lord of the ancient and noble house of Black,” she whispered. Gently stroking his face, she stared deeply into his eyes, light blue to gray, as she uttered the next sentence. “And that’s you Sirius.”

Sirius blinked and the world seemed to start again. Determination coursed through him. Despite the years of abuse in his own household, despite being disowned and labeled a blood traitor, despite sorting into Gryffindor and creating a new family with Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail, Sirius would always be a Black. And if his cousin needed him to be Lord Black, then he damn well would be.

“What’s your plan of escape,” he asked.

There was a glimpse of a smile before Narcissa reverted back to her usual mask of haughty indifference and she replied, “Are you well enough to portkey?” She reached into her robes and pulled out an item wrapped in a silk handkerchief.

Sirius shot her the cocky smile that was his own mask and jumped to a standing position. “You know us Gryffindors, Cissy. We’re fighters.” And then he held out his hand. She seemed to hesitate only for a second, but Sirius guessed it was just out of habit. She placed her hand in his and he helped her to her feet. They stood toe to toe, with Draco in the middle.

“I stole this from Lucius,” Narcissa admitted as she began to peel back the piece of silk with her fingers. “It’s the only thing that will work inside the wards of the Manor. I overheard him explaining this to Dolohov and it was supposed to be used for the Dark L— uh, you-know-who.”

“Do you know where it leads?” Sirius’s eyes were wide with sudden apprehension.

Narcissa looked down with a grimace. “No,” she confessed. Sirius winced and she must have noticed because she looked back up defiantly. “But, anywhere is better than here. And hopefully we can apparate away as soon as we touch down.”

“Won’t that be bad for Draco?”

Narcissa gave a little huff followed by a sniffle. “I’m touched by your concern, but he should be fine if I apparate side-along. After we portkey, hug me close with Draco in between us before you disapparate away. You can apparate without the use of your wand, correct?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Right, take us somewhere safe. Do you have a place in mind?”

Sirius immediately considered his options. He should go straight to the ministry and report in after his escape, but that would mean a load of questioning by ministry officials that Sirius would rather ask his cousin himself. What they needed was a safe house and the most obvious location sprang to mind immediately. Sirius groaned audibly.

“Yes, I know where to go,” Sirius finally sighed. He laughed aloud, because the incredulity of this situation had finally caught up with him. The matron of the house where he was being held hostage was helping him in his escape and he just agreed to take her to his least favorite place in the world. However, Grimmauld Place was the only real option. His parents and brother were no longer alive to enter and as the only one who knew the address after their deaths, he became the soul secret keeper. No one would be able to find the place let alone enter.

“Thank you,” Narcissa said unwrapping the silver hair brush and holding it in her palm between them. “You were always my favorite.”

“Ha! Are you serious?”

Narcissa snorted inelegantly and smirked up at him. “No, you are.”

Sirius, slightly taken aback, smiles. “Bloody right I am, Cissy. On three…” Sirius held a hand over the brush and Narcissa’s fingers grazed his own as she joined him. She nodded.

He counted and on three they both touched the portkey. Sirius felt himself being pulled through the wards of the manor and whisked across the country. He could tell he was getting close to the stopping point and readied himself to land as best he could when he didn’t know the destination.

The whirl of the world around him slowed and he could make out specific colors and patterns. And then he felt the air around him and his feet made contact with soft grass. He landed graciously and managed to keep himself upright as he slowed to a halt on a grassy hillside overlooking a sea cliff. He turned immediately and caught his cousin as she emerged behind him.

“Whoa, I got ya,” Sirius said whisking her small frame up before she careened to the hard ground.

Narcissa’s eyes were closed but when she opened them she blinked owlishly up at Sirius. “Where are we?”

“No idea,” Sirius remarked taking a quick look around before glancing back down at the witch in his arms. “Not really what I expected when you said that portkey was made for old Voldy, but I’m not sticking around to investigate further. You decent enough to try apparating?”

Narcissa looked a little green in the face, but she nodded and Sirius didn’t bother arguing with her. “Alright,” he said raising her up a bit and hugging her close to his chest. “Hold tight. I’ll try not to splinch us.”

Before he gave her a chance to argue, he swept them both away and they reappeared in the front yard of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“I think something went wrong,” Narcissa uttered. “My eyesight. Everything around us looks hazy.”

“That’s because I haven’t told you the address. It’s under a fidelius charm,” Sirius explained.

“Don’t tell me it,” Narcissa demanded with a gasp and she pulled out her wand and pointed it at Sirius’s head.

To say that Sirius was surprised would be an understatement. His cousin had left him confounded quite a lot in the past hour. “Narcissa?”

“Petrificus Totalus,” Narcissa enchanted. Frozen solid in the front garden of Grimmauld Place, Sirius listened carefully to what his cousin had to say for herself. “I’m sorry Sirius, but it would be safer for you if you didn’t know about any of this. I hope you can forgive me. Perhaps one day I can explain things, but you’ll probably never see me again.” Her words were rushed and Sirius could hardly keep up. He watched her pull another silk-wrapped item from the pocket of her robes, readying herself to portkey away again. “Have a good life Sirius,” she demanded of him and pointed her wand at Sirius’s head. “Obliviate.”

Sirius shook his head to clear away the cobwebs and glanced at his surroundings in utter bewilderment. The last he remembered, he was laying on the stone floor of the Malfoy dungeon being tortured by his eldest cousin. Now he stood alone in front of his childhood home. He could feel the faint magical residue of someone portkeying away, but couldn’t follow it without his wand, which he seemed to be without.

How did I escape? Why would I go here? He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He needed to find Prongs. Perhaps James could fill him in or at least provide a theory.

***

***Present***

His eyes cleared and focused on the blonde in front of him. He lowered his wand and stared at her openmouthed. Sirius shook his head in disbelief which managed to dislodge the breath caught in his throat. “Wow,” Sirius exhaled. “That wasn’t even close to the ideas James and I came up with.”

Narcissa looked up through her pale lashes and grinned sheepishly. “Yes, well… I—“

“How did you do that,” Sirius interrupted excitedly. “I’ve never heard of anyone being able to return a person’s obliviated memory before!”

“Oh well, I’ve always been good at memory charms, but I felt terrible anytime I used them,” Narcissa admitted timidly. “So, I invented a failsafe in their mind that I would just hide the memory behind until I voiced a code word or phrase that would bring it back. Mother let me use her for practice.”

“Incredible,” Sirius declared. As the high from his memories returning faded away he recalled his original question, and he turned suspicious eyes on his cousin. “Why are you here Cissy?”

Narcissa couldn’t seem to find the words. Her eyes bored into Sirius’s and the silence stretched.

“Perhaps you should both take a seat,” Lily commented.

Sirius flicked his gaze to the redhead and noticed for the first time the child laying in her arms. “Who—“

“My son,” Narcissa interjected. “Perhaps we should sit. Sirius?”

The wizard nodded dumbly as he settled himself into the love seat between the two arm chairs, Lily in the one to his right and Narcissa in the one to his left. However, he couldn’t take his eyes off the small boy in his friend’s arms. “Is this Draco?”

“Yes,” Narcissa answered, swallowing audibly before continuing. “Meet Draco Sirius Black.”


	2. 1:2- Help Draco

It had been a very strange hour for Lily Potter, and it was about to get even stranger.

Folded in her arms was the son of two of her least favorite people in the world, one of which was currently sitting on the arm chair across from her. It felt terribly odd to look down at this child who couldn’t be more than a month old and be so conflicted. This blonde baby was the heir to the Malfoy name, would have most likely been raised to follow Voldemort, a death eater in training. And yet, his smile was infectious. Lily couldn’t stop looking at him. He was beautiful.

“Meet Draco Sirius Black.”

That caught Lily’s attention and she raised her head to stare wide eyes at Narcissa Malfoy. “What?” Her glance shifted to Sirius and if Lily thought she was surprised, it didn’t compare to the look on her friend’s face.

“You named him after me?” His voice was raspy and the question came out like a criticism. “Wha—“  
“Will you listen to my story,” Narcissa interrupted. “Please, because now I’m afraid this concerns Lily as well.”

Narcissa’s gaze wandered apologetically over to the redhead and Lily felt sick. “What does this have to do with me?”

Lily watched Narcissa rise to her feet and start pacing the small family room. She looked desperate, more desperate than Lily had ever seen her. It was hard to watch. Even when she was younger, Narcissa Black was always poised and elegant. She may have been a few years younger than Lily and Sirius, but that didn’t matter. Everyone at the school knew who she was instinctively. She had an aura about her that meant she could silence a room with her mere presence. The youngest Black daughter was a force to be reckoned with.

But now, she looked worn out and frankly, frightened. This scared Lily more than anything.

“Perhaps I should fetch some more tea,” Lily offered, more to just say something, anything, than because she actually wanted tea.

“No!” That outburst was unexpected and Lily and Sirius flinched. Narcissa whirled around and looked at Lily regretfully. “Sorry, I just— I don’t have much time. I’ve been stalling, but I need to tell you— both of you. Please understand that I was terrified. Truly utterly terrified for myself and Draco. I only hope that you don’t think too harshly of me once I’ve finished, but please just hear me out.”

Lily turned frightened eyes to Sirius and took comfort in the wizard’s stoicism. She wished James was here. Perhaps she should have sent for him, but he was on a mission and couldn’t be reached until tomorrow. Sirius was recovering from an injury on his last job and right now, Lily was unusually grateful for the Death Eater that left her friend incapacitated for the next three days. She may be a Gryffindor and a skilled Order member herself, but that didn’t make her fearless, especially when it comes to her future son. Somehow, Lily knew that whatever Narcissa was about to tell them would have to do with Harry. Call it a mother’s intuition.

“We will listen,” Sirius told his cousin in his no-nonsense hit-wizard voice. “Tell us everything.”

And she did.

***

Narcissa inhaled deeply and began her pacing again. She let any and all reservations go. If she wanted Sirius and Lily to believe her, she couldn’t hold anything back.

So she began her story. “I just found I was pregnant and went to tell Lucius…”

***

***Nine months earlier***

“No.”

The gasped word was inaudible in the empty hallway of Malfoy Manor. What Narcissa had just heard brought tears to her eyes and a hand to her stomach. She couldn’t tell Lucius now. What would he do? Would he be so terrible as to kill her and their child for the sake of his master?

The answer was like a twisted knife to the abdomen. 

Yes. If the Dark Lord demanded it, Lucius would do it.

Narcissa hurried away from the doors to the drawing room where the Dark Lord tended to hold his Death Eater meetings, her emerald silk nightdress brushing silently across the marble floor. Sighting the first door she saw without caring what laid beyond, Narcissa swiftly entered the room and closed the door behind her. A gut-wrenching sob finally and freely escaped through the gaps in her fingers. Her eyes were wide and unfocused as she slid down the length of the door and curled up in a puddle of her silk robes. She cried unabashedly for the first time in her adult life.

How had she never noticed before, how awful and cruel and terrible the people who resided in this house were? To talk so callously about killing a mere child because of some prophesy. It was barbaric. Did she blind herself into believing these people were good and just? Or had she always known deep down and only now that it affected her and her child, did she let herself care?

How could I be such an imbecile? How I can let this happen under my own roof—

The deep sound of a throat clearing halted Narcissa’s inner reprimands in their tracks. Her eyes cleared and she gasped at the sight of the man sitting in one of the comfortable seats where her in the other wives tended to have their afternoon teas, her heart thudding wildly in her chest.

“Oh, Severus, you frightened me.” She quickly tried to make herself look presentable, but knew it was fruitless. Narcissa was aware she looked a right mess and tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for her current state of being.

The black-haired wizard rose from his seat and strode toward her at an even pace, his expression blank and impassive. Once he was a meter away, he lowered himself until he was almost eye level with Narcissa. She remembered then that the man she had known for a decade was a skilled legilimens, and closed her eyes, but it was too late. She was too emotional to occlude, even the little she could, and her memories were ripe for the taking.

When she opened her eyes again she was surprised to see the look of unadulterated pain on Snape’s face. His eyes closed with a sorrowful sigh and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re pregnant.”

It wasn’t a question so Narcissa didn’t answer him, too frozen in terror to do much of anything, really.

“How far along?”

Narcissa hesitated for a brief moment, but she found her voice eventually. “I’m not certain. I only performed the spell an hour ago to find out if I was even with child. I came down to tell Lucius and overheard—“ Her breath hitched and she couldn’t continue that sentence. 

“The prophesy,” Severus finished with a mutter and when she looked up at him with wide eyes, it seemed he wanted to shove those words back into his mouth. Not one for petty words or stuttering, Severus remained silent and grim-faced before rising back up into a standing position. He twisted angrily away from her, his black cloak billowing behind him and began to pace, lost in thought.

Not wanting to interrupt, Narcissa became aware of the cold hard ground underneath her and rose on weak legs. Upon doing so, she remembered the wand in the inside pocket of her nightgown and her hand inched toward it. 

Perhaps she could just obliviate Snape. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t used that charm a hundred times before. Then she could formulate a plan to escape this place, this manor. She could hide from Lucius and the Dark Lord. She could protect her son. She could protect Draco. 

Couldn’t she?

One thing at a time, Narcissa, she told herself. Her eyes shifted to the the man pacing in front of her and her fingers reached the hilt of her wand. Sorry Severus—

“He’s a madman.”

Those three words halted Narcissa in her tracks. “What?”

“The Dark Lord,” Snape practically snarled, spinning around and letting the black depths of his eyes bore holes into Narcissa. “He is mad. An absolute lunatic. He’s going to start murdering children. What sane person does that?”

Narcissa had never heard Severus spew such venom and she could only be glad it wasn’t aimed at her. In fact, if she was hearing correctly, she might have an ally in all this.

“I mean, he want me to be his spy,” he hissed, obviously beyond caring at this point, “but I think becoming double agent is sounding better and better each second. All his followers are fools. I am a fool! How could I have not noticed before,” Severus pondered aloud.

Narcissa inhaled, as the same question she had been thinking only moments ago was being asked aloud by someone else.

“Severus.” She had no reason to say his name beyond the fact that she needed to say something, but the black pools of Severus’s gaze landed on her and he stopped pacing. There was silence as Narcissa tried to figure out what she wanted to tell him, to ask him, but eventually all that came out was a shattered plea of, “Help me.”

***

***Present***

“So, he did,” Narcissa finished, looking up into the surprised faces of Lily and Sirius. “He taught me occlumency and stole the portkey from Lucius’s office. The only stipulation was that the portkey worked only if two unmarked people touched it. It was the Dark— You-know-who’s failsafe in case his people turned on him. He had taken to bringing a muggle with him everywhere, like a slave, for that very reason. So a month later, when you were captured Sirius, we realized we had a chance. It would work perfectly. Severus could remain a spy for the Order without anyone being the wiser, and I could escape with Draco and save my cousin at the same time.”

Narcissa stopped talking and turned honest blue eyes at Sirius. The staring contest lasted five minutes, at least. Then her cousin nodded and smacked his lips in contemplation. Narcissa waited for him to speak, her patience running thin but holding. Apparently, Lily wasn’t quite so indulgent.

“He’s… killing… children?” Lily’s deep green eyes were despondent, on the verge of tears.

“Umm—“

“What were the exact words of the prophesy,” Sirius interrupted.

Narcissa wracked her brain for what the prophesy stated. “I don’t know the exact words but it was something like, ‘A child would be born soon that will be able to defeat the Dark Lord... born in July by those who have defied him.’”

“But you and Lucius did not defy him,” Sirius wondered aloud. “Why would you think the prophesy would be about Draco?”

“I don’t think the prophesy is about Draco. Never did,” Narcissa explained. “But I didn’t think it would have mattered to the Dark Lord. He would have assumed Lucius and I did betray him and would have taken my son’s life anyway.”

The harsh words Narcissa had just spoken had Lily standing up clutching Draco in her arms tighter. “No.”

“Draco was born in June, so the prophesy isn’t even close to applicable now,” Narcissa added.

That seemed to relax the red-headed witch, if only slightly. Narcissa returned her attention to her cousin and waited for him to ask the next question.

“So… you’re telling me you overheard a prophesy that might mean the death of the child you just realized you were having, found out how terrible your Lord truly was, decided to run, and in the process saved me from the continued torture of my dear sweet cousin Bella?” Sirius paused and tilted his head in acceptance. “Ok, I’ll believe that. What I still don’t really think is possible is that Severus Snape helped save my life.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know you guys don’t like each other very much. I remember you both at school. But he’s not a monster. And if it makes you feel any better, you were just a pawn so that he can save me and Draco. Happy?”

Sirius smirked. “Actually yes, thank you.”

Narcissa didn’t know her cousin very well, especially over the past three years since he graduated Hogwarts, but she knew at least not to berate him for being petty. It was a coping mechanism to make light of the situation, and at the present, Narcissa couldn’t really blame him. Obviously Lily was also quite used to Sirius’s mannerisms for she didn’t scold him for his silly question about one of her good childhood friends. In fact, the red-head had also regained some of the color in her cheeks after Sirius cut the tension in the room.

“Ok, so,” Sirius piped in breaking the silence, “where did you go after you obliviated me? And why are you back now? You said I would probably never see you again.”

Narcissa took a deep breath before taking a seat in her chair again. Lily joined her, holding Draco close to her bosom. It was hard not to cry at the sight, but it would be harder if Draco were in her arms when she explained the rest.

“Severus had an international portkey crafted for me, one that would take me to the states,” Narcissa began. “After I wiped your memory, Sirius, I ended up in New Orleans. Severus has distant family there and had remembered visiting when he was a child. There is a diverse witch population in the city, and with it a secret coven that provides safe passage or hospitality for any witch in need. I remained with the coven until Draco was born in early June. I can’t tell you much about the stay because I had to give a witch’s oath upon entrance. But after Draco was born, I had to move on. Males, no matter what age were not allowed to remain at the shelter.

“I became increasingly paranoid that Lucius had figured out that I was pregnant before I left and would use blood magic to find his child. It was entirely possible. I had to protect my son. I couldn’t let him go back to that life. That life with a Death Eater as a father, to be raised as a follower of a man who would kill him on a whim. But what was I to do? It’s not like I could make it so that Lucius wasn’t Draco’s father—“

Narcissa faltered as she realized she was coming to the apex of the story and the reason she was back in England. A lone tear escaped down her cheek but she rallied quickly and faced the two sets of curious eyes, one a fierce deep green that threatened anything that stood in their line of sight, and the other a gray so like her son’s it made Narcissa smile despite the tears. 

“I found a way,” Narcissa started once she regained control of her voice, “to make it so Lucius was not Draco’s father.”

She left her mouth open as she waited for a reaction. When none came, when Sirius and Lily could only stared dumfounded at Narcissa, she continued.

“It’s a voodoo practice. I found the ritual in a book when I went snooping while staying with the coven. It was created by the west-african slaves during the days when their owners would rape their women. When a child was born to an enslaved witch they began performing a ritual that would wipe the blood clean of the man who soiled them. That way, the child’s blood could never be used to help the birth father if he was sick or dying. In fact it would make the baby’s blood a poison to the birth father.

“I knew it would work. If I could perform the ritual correctly, Draco would no longer share Lucius’s blood. It would have worked too, it did work, except—“ Narcissa let out a terrible sob. “Except at his conception, it was consensual, so… the ritual meant that I too would be poisoned by his blood. I didn’t realize what was happening until my magic was drained so much, I could barely cast Lumos. I went to the coven and they explained everything. I was dying and it was too late for me to regain the magic that was lost. I asked them to create me a portkey so I may return to England. I had to tell someone. I couldn’t just leave Draco parentless in Wizarding America. My first instinct was to tell Severus, but his life as a spy would not permit me to find him without making my reappearance in Britain known to all the other Death Eaters. My second instinct was to find the lord of my house, my favorite cousin, and the man who shares the same surname as my son.

“I don’t know what to do, Sirius. Help me. Help Draco.”

***

Sirius Black should feel inclined to reject the plea for help. This woman in front of him was a daughter of a family he despised, wife of a man he despised, friend of another man he despised, member of a Hogwarts house he despised… but mother of a boy he couldn’t possibly fault for being born.

And there was the crux of the situation. That boy currently lying happily in the arms of his best mate’s girl deserved a future just as much as any other child. But what could he do?

“Are you suggesting I raise the boy myself?” His question was subdued as if spoken by another person entirely. He felt like he was outside of his body watching someone else’s life and it was oddly calming.

There was a eerie quiet that settled over the room.

“I— I just—“

“Because I will,” Sirius interrupted. “Raise him, I mean.”

If Sirius thought the previous silence was bad, it didn’t compare to now. The lack of noise was beyond eerie. It was almost as if a dementor had appeared in the small sitting room and was slowly sucking out his soul.

“Sirius,” Lily exclaimed. “You can’t be serious.”

Sirius’s eyes slowly traveled upwards until they settled defiantly on Lily’s face. The outburst wasn’t quite unexpected from the former head girl, but it still hurt. He set his jaw in absolute determination, the kind of strength and resolve that he only showed in the most dire of times.

“Let me tell you something Mrs. Potter,” Sirius bit out. “I was raised to be a perfect little Slytherin pureblood, but instead, I was sorted into Gryffindor and disowned for thinking people like you deserved a right to the magic they have. I made friends with a werewolf and learned to become an animagus at the age of 15. I helped create a map of Hogwarts that showed where anybody was at that particular time. I took nine NEWTS and got Outstandings in each. And I was the youngest hit wizard trainee that has ever passed the entrance exam. 

“Everyone underestimates me, even Dumbledore himself, because I certainly didn’t become a prefect or Head Boy now did I? No of course not. Do you want to know why? Because my last name is Black!

“Now… a member of my family has come to me because of that name, despite the house I was sorted into and the friends I have made and the blood status of the woman currently holding her child. So if you think I’m just going to let that child go off into the world and live the rest of his life without his true family, then you are sadly mistaken. He is my blood and I will care for him as if he were my own son, because that is who I am. I can’t be serious? Well, sometimes, I have to remember that I’m always Sirius.”

Sirius ended his speech and held out his arms expectantly. Lily recovered from her frozen state and slowly and apologetically laid Draco in his outstretched arms, sitting back with a look of silent bewilderment.

Sirius pulled the boy close and shifted him until he could stare into the boy’s eyes. They were the same gray as the one’s that greeted Sirius in the mirror every morning.

Sirius Black had done a great many things in his 21 years of life, but none of them compared to this feeling. Nothing felt more right in Sirius’s whole life, than to hold Draco in his arms.

His eyes drifted from Draco’s silver orbs and focused on the blue’s of his mother’s. “Cissy, are you sure?”

Her smile was warm but sad as she nodded her head in answer. “Yes,” she uttered unnecessarily anyway. Suddenly her heartbreaking smile faded to be replaced with an expression of professionalism. “However, I would prefer if you were actually Lord Black.”

Sirius nodded minutely as her words sank in. “Who is Lord Black, now that grandfather died,” he asked.

“Well as you know,” Narcissa explained, “the lordship of the house should go the next eldest male in the family, but as Grandfather, your father, my father, and Regulus are all dead, and Uncle Alphard has been disowned and moved to Australia, the next in line would actually be… Draco. Bella is barren, thank Merlin, and as you know, Dromeda has been disowned, but she only has a daughter anyway. So yes, next in line would be Draco, as mental as that is.

“However, if you were to be reinstated as a member of the House of Black, you would become Lord by rite.”

Sirius blinked as he took in all this information. “How can I be reinstated?”

“As a daughter of the House of Black, I can reinstate you in a blood ritual,” Narcissa answered immediately.

“Right… blood rituals. It’s been awhile,” Sirius admitted, thinking quickly. “Could we also preform the adoption ritual so I can make Draco my son by rite?”

Narcissa sucked in a surprised breath. “You would do that?”

“Of course. It’s obvious you don’t want anyone to find out about his true parentage, so we should make it official now so there can be no dispute, don’t you agree?”

Sirius watched Narcissa as her facade fell and her expression turned grim. “Yes I do agree,” she murmured. “Sirius, if we do these rituals, I’m afraid that… that will be it for me. My magic is thin as it is. This would drain me completely.”

Sirius felt as if a piece of him had died in that moment. “Oh.”

“Yes.” Narcissa turned her head away, blinking furiously but it was no use. “Will you have me buried in the Black cemetery?”

Twin gasps sounded from Sirius and Lily. His throat constricted and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t give his cousin a verbal answer, so he just nodded.

Narcissa nodded as well. She tried to regain her composure. “Lily dear, does your husband have a ceremonial knife?”

“In a trunk in our room,” Lily answered, her voice abnormally tinny. “I shall retrieve it.”

The redhead strode from the sitting room and left the three Blacks alone. Sirius swallowed around the thickness in his throat and the words that followed sounded hollow to his own ears. “Is it alright to perform the ritual here? Or should we try this somewhere else?”

“This should be fine. I’m far too weak to make another trip to relocate,” she answered. They stood in awkward silence for a bit. “Can I hold him?”

Sirius shook himself out of his melancholy like Padfoot after a particularly long nap. “Of course.” He stood and carried Draco to his mother, folding him perfectly to be cradled in her arms. He felt strangely bereft without the child and his arms hung lamely at his sides.

“Hello sweetheart,” Cissy cooed, her voice strained as if she were holding back sobs with all her might. Sirius watched mother and son mutely, not wanting to interrupt the goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” Narcissa finally sobbed. “I’m leaving you without your Mum and that’s no way for a child to be raised. I just love you so much, my beautiful boy. I wish I could watch you grow old. I won’t be there for your first steps, or your first word. I won’t get to see your first bit of accidental magic. I won’t ever know what house you’ll be sorted into, what subjects you’ll take your NEWTS in, or what clubs you’ll join. I’ll never get to meet your friends or the girl you love. I won’t get to watch you live… but at least you will live.

“And I’m not leaving you alone, with no one.” Narcissa looked up at this and stared straight at Sirius, almost into his soul. “You’ll be with with family.”

Sirius nodded minutely in confirmation.

“Got it.” Lily made her way down the stairs, brandishing the Potter family ritual blade.

Narcissa gave Draco one last kiss and before he knew it, Sirius was holding the boy in his arms again. Narcissa took the knife from Lily’s fingers and cut her palm swiftly and without an ounce of hesitation. She brought her bloody palm to rest on Sirius’s cheek and he closed his eyes as the magic poured through him.

Sirius felt dizzy and he could only vaguely make out the words of the ritual as Narcissa recited it. “I, Narcissa Black, daughter of the ancient and noble house of Black, claim Sirius Black as a member of the ancient and noble house of Black. So have I sworn, so mote it be.”

The magic swirled around him and suddenly the Black totem, a cobra, was shimmering in front of him. Magic had accepted him back into his house instantly.

Her palm still on his cheek, Narcissa continued the ritual. “I, Narcissa Black daughter of the ancient and noble house of Black, claim Sirius Black, son of the ancient and noble house of Black, as my Lord.”

Sirius took a deep breath before speaking his part. “I, Sirius Black, son of the ancient and noble house of Black, accept this lordship and all responsibility this position bestows upon me. So have I sworn, so mote it be.”

The cobra hissed it’s acceptance and Sirius watched as the ghostlike being flowed through his cousin and disappeared inside his body. His heart warmed and his extremities tingled as the magic settled inside him.

He could tell Narcissa was fading and that he needed to finish the last part of the ceremony quickly. He tried his best to stay calm and keep his composure but it was proving difficult. This was all happening so fast and he could feel the madness of this situation creeping around the edges of his subconscious, on the verge of permeating his usual blasé demeanor of “act now, think later.” He gathered all his Gryffindor bravery (or stupidity) and found his voice to complete the sacrament.

“I, Lord Sirius Black, of the ancient and noble house of Black, claim Draco Sirius Black, son of the ancient and noble house of Black as my son by blood and rite. I accept paternity of this child and all responsibility this position bestows upon me.”

“I, Narcissa Black, daughter of the ancient and noble house of Black, accept this adoption of Draco Sirius Black, son of the ancient and noble house of Black. So have I sworn, so mote it be.”

The lacerated palm fell from his blood-stained cheek and Cissy Black was no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I just want to say that while I'm trying very hard to keep most things in this story as canon as possible, I did play around with the ages a bit to fit better with my version of JK's incredible characters. I know Narcissa is supposed to actually be a few years older than Sirius, but I wanted to play up the overprotective big brother that I believe Sirius would have been if his family had ever given him the chance.
> 
> Also, I'm very sorry for killing off Narcissa so quickly, but I did kind of warn you in the description so... :)


	3. 1:3- Hello Draco

Two days later, on July 30th, 1980, Sirius Black, holding his son Draco, was staring despondently down at the headstone in the Black family cemetery. It read: 

Narcissa Black  
1961-1980  
Toujours

There were hundreds of Blacks buried in this particular plot of land located behind Black Manor in Dover where his Grandfather had lived up until his death two years ago. Most of their headstones read Toujours Pur, the family motto. Always pure… it seemed wrong to add to Cissy’s grave. Just Always… It fit better.

The air was warm and sticky, the sun glaring even through the cloud cover. Sirius hardly noticed.

He felt a presence beside him and turned grim-faced to the man he considered his brother. “James,” he stated idly in greeting.

“How you doing Padfoot?”

“Oh, you know,” Sirius answered with a shrug of his shoulders shifting the sleeping Draco in his arms into a more comfortable position. He turned away and focused on the gravestone again. “Peter and Remus?”

James sighed gravely. “Moony’s still in France trying to gain the trust of the werewolves there. And I haven’t seen Wormy in a while. I think the Ministry sent him to Russia or something.” There was a pause and then, “I don’t think we should tell them the truth, Sirius.”

Sirius looked up sharply. “They’re marauders Prongs. We can’t just keep this from them. They should know who Draco’s real parents are.”

“You’re his real parent,” James countered. “Look…” James rubbed his face in an act of exhaustion. “I get that it has always been us four against the world, but I don’t think you should have even told me, Padfoot. And if Lily weren’t there when it happened, I don’t think you would have either. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Sirius looked away with a defeated huff of breath. “Fine. You’re… right,” Sirius muttered in annoyance. “We shouldn’t tell them. The less who know, the better. We’re in the middle of a war, I get it. And they’re both shite occlumens.”

James stepped closer and peered over Sirius’s shoulder at the baby in his arms. “He’s quite handsome.”

Sirius snorted. “All Blacks are.”

James huffed in amusement. “True.”

Sirius smiled for the first time in what felt like centuries.

There was the pop of apparition behind them and they both turned wide eyes at their two new guests.

“Lily,” James shouted. “You shouldn’t be apparating like that.”

“I did it side-along, don’t worry dear.” Turning toward Sirius, she said, “I tracked him down for you.”

Sirius had already been looking at the man beside her, trying to gouge his reaction. “Snape,” he greeted.

“What is the meaning of this, Black? Why am I here?” His voice was dry and weary.

Sirius shook his head in dismay. “You didn’t tell him anything Lils?”

“I figured it would be better coming from you,” she explained.

“Yes,” Snape sneered. “I got an owl from Dumbledore and the next thing I knew Lily showed up in his office and told me to apparate her to the Black estate in Dover.”

“And you just did it,” James asked in wonderment.

“Yes,” Snape replied coldly.

“Prongs,” Sirius stated simply. “Give us some space.”

“You can’t trust him,” James snapped. “After what he said to Lily. After everything he did at school—“

“I did far worse,” Sirius interrupted. “Leave us… please.”

James reluctantly shuffled away, holding out an arm for his pregnant wife, giving one last warning look to the Death Eater in their midst. Once they were alone, Snape returned his focus to Sirius and startled at the sight of the child in his arms.

“Who—“

“My son.”

“How old is he?”

Sirius nodded resolutely. He figured that would be the first question Snape would ask. “Not to worry. He’ll be two months soon. Born in early June.”

“Not to worry,” Snape repeated in question. “Why would I worry?”

“Well, I believe you overheard a prophecy that would cause some concern as to the date of birth of any child you come across, even if he’s the son of someone you don’t particularly care for,” Sirius stated.

Snape quirked an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “Well then I shall congratulate you on his lucky birth. What is his name?”

“Draco.”

Snape blinked in surprise. “And who may I ask is the mother of this child?”

Sirius quirked his head, smiling without humor. Instead of saying her name aloud, he decided to step aside and let the headstone speak for itself.

Sirius watched as recognition crossed Snape’s face. The greasy-haired git closed his eyes in sorrow, the first real emotion Sirius had seen on the man since sixth year.

“How?”

“She performed a ritual that went terribly wrong, one that made it so Draco’s blood would not share any of Malfoy’s. It sapped her magic and she died after performing the ritual to make Draco my son, by blood and rite.”

Snape nodded, his face once again guarded. “Who else knows?”

“Just you, James, and Lily. And I’m going to keep it that way,” Sirius added.

“What, you aren’t going to tell the other two in your little Gryffindor foursome,” Snape jeered with a scowl.

“No.”

Snape paused and Sirius let this sink in. “Why tell me?”

“Because she would have wanted you to know what happened to the child you helped save. And because—” Sirius halted and rolled his eyes before continuing. “Because, I thought you would like to meet your Godson.”

“What? You can’t be seri—“ Sirius smirked and Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Why?”

“Because if you’re going to be our spy in this war against old Voldypants, I want you to remember that you’re fighting for a reason,” Sirius replied.

“I would have fought regardless. For Lily.”

Sirius quirked up an eyebrow in amusement and then the double meaning behind his words sunk in. “You think this Chosen One will be Lily’s son?”

“We shall see.”

And with that, the two men lapsed into contemplative silence. Eventually Snape stepped up near Sirius and they both mourned a woman who changed each of their lives in vastly different ways.

Snape gave a flick of his wand and deposited a single white calla lily at the foot of her grave stone. “Nineteen is far too young.”

Sirius hummed in agreement, unconsciously pulling Draco closer to his chest. “Why a lily?”

“They were her favorite.”

“Hmm… You know Lily hates them?”

Snape snorted rather inelegantly. “Yes I remember. First time I showed her a bit of magic, I conjured up a lily. She didn’t even care. She just looked at me and said, ‘I’d rather a tulip, Severus.’”

Sirius looked over at the man next to him like it was the first time he had ever really seen him. And perhaps it was.

“I’m sorry for almost letting Moony kill you,” Sirius said.

Snape looked up and nodded his acceptance. “Sorry I’m a Death Eater.”

Sirius harrumphed in mild bewilderment. “That was weird.”

“Indeed, let us never speak of it again,” Snape agreed.

***

Draco was on his third hour of crying without reason when the news came: Alice named her son Neville, and it seemed very likely he would be the Chosen One spoken about in the prophecy Voldemort inexplicably believed would come to pass. 

The three who knew the prophesy were a mix of sorrow and relief as they headed to the Longbottom residence that night to give their congratulations. Sirius could practically feel the weighty guilt that flowed off the Potters as they knocked tentatively on the door.

When Frank answered he was all smiles and, if anything, that made the three feel worse.

“Oh, the Potters, welcome, welcome, Alice is just inside, oh and don’t you look ready to pop any minute Lily,” Frank gushed. “How was the last mission, James? I heard you almost got that damn mole in the ministry. We’ll catch him yet, I’m sure of it. Oh and Sirius, how’s the leg? All healed up—“ Frank froze when he finally spotted Draco. “Who—“

“My son,” Sirius interrupted and he would find it funny the number of times someone had been interrupted before they could finish that bloody question, if the situation were the least bit humorous.

“Oh, I uh— I thought— I just assumed—“ Frank cleared his throat and started again. “Well, will the Mrs. be joining us?”

Sirius watched the Potters flinch, but Sirius had prepared himself for questions of this sort. “No, she won’t be coming.”

Frank must have heard the terrible intentions behind that statement (being an auror meant more than just having a fancy title) for he replied with a crestfallen, “Oh I’m so sorry to hear that, lad.”

Sirius would have been offended by the juvenile address if it came from anyone except Frank. The former head boy had always been like the older brother Sirius had never had. “Thanks, mate,” Sirius said solemnly. “She was a wonderful woman.”

And that was that. Neither Frank nor Alice mentioned Draco’s mother again. They were decent like that.

“Well come in, come in. I’ve got the fans going. It’s far cooler inside,” Frank jabbered, stepping aside to let the two Potters and two Blacks through the wide double doors.

Sirius stepped over the threshold and paid tribute to the giant Japanese-style fans littered throughout the parlor and adjoining sitting room. The Auror couple probably obtained them on their holiday abroad a few years ago and they wafted sweet, cool air around the room with the help of some fancy charm work. Draco giggled happily as a breeze happened to catch him in the face and Sirius laughed with him. 

“You like that,” Sirius cooed before he could catch himself and remember he was with company. “Perhaps we should get some for our flat. What do you say?” Draco just gurgled and drooled a little down Sirius’s arm. “Lovely,” Sirius muttered with faux disgust. He pulled out his wand and aimed at the offending spit stain. “Tergeo.”

“Alice! Sirius and the Potters are here, and they brought a guest to meet Neville,” Frank called up the stairs of the large mansion.

“Oh they did,” Alice replied from behind them where she was coming out of the kitchen, holding a small dark-haired baby in her arms.

Lily was upon her as quickly as her pregnant form would allow, delivering the usual ooh’s and aah’s over baby Neville. James was close behind and they both stared down in wonder at the tiny, helpless figure in their friend’s arms.

Then it was Sirius’s turn and he stepped close and turned Draco slightly so he could have a better view of the younger baby. “Draco, Neville. Neville, Draco,” Sirius introduced.

Alice looked up in surprise but quickly schooled her face into one of commiseration. “Oh you have one too, Sir? With baby Potter on the way soon, we will be overrun with boys won’t we?” She shook her head in good humor and that marked the mood for the rest of the night. No one could make you forget your troubles like former Head Girl, Alice Fortescue.

It was late into the night when Draco started getting fussy, Lily complained about her back, and the new parents were practically dead on their feet. Everyone decided to call it quits, but it was worth the exhaustion to be with friends and family at a time like this.

Sirius, Draco, James and Lily bid their goodbyes and returned to Godric’s Hollow. Draco fell asleep immediately in the crib meant for Harry and Sirius transfigured the rocking chair into a bed to place right next to the crib, just as he had done the previous two nights. Sirius stretched out lazily and contemplated all that had happened that day.

He flipped around and looked through the slats of the baby’s cot at his napping child of three days. “I’ll go looking for a flat for the two of us soon. I’m Lord Black, you know? I have money now. And then we can get you settled and on a feeding schedule and all that other bollocks parents are supposed to do. And then Harry will be born and we’ll be over all the time and you two will be inseparable just like James and I were at Hogwarts. And I’ll teach you to walk and speak and I’ll smile when you set fire to the curtains in a burst of accidental magic. And I’ll instruct you on how to ride a broom properly and we’ll have two-on-two Quidditch matches with Prongs and Harry. And I’ll take you to the train station and see you off to Hogwarts and I’ll look forward to your letters and me and Prongs and Lils will read them to each other and laugh and reminisce about the good old days. And I’ll tell you about your mother. About how she was a wonderful woman who risked her life to save you. I will be upset that I won’t be able to tell you more about her and that most of her background information will be largely made up, but the big stuff will be real. She was beautiful and smart and so young. She was the only one who ever truly delighted in my puns and made me want to be a better man. I loved her very much. And she will be the only woman I will ever truly love.”

By the end he was a weepy mess, but he figured he was allowed a few hours of despondency. Things had changed so drastically for Sirius Black in such a short while, it seemed only fair that he let himself grieve. And he did. He grieved for Narcissa, who would never know her son, and for Draco, who would never know his Mum. And he grieved for himself, the old Sirius Black. The one who died that afternoon when his cousin came back into his life.

Goodbye Sirius Black, Hogwarts prankster, hater of all things Slytherin, he told himself. Goodbye Sirius Black, youngest Hit Wizard to ever pass the program on his first examination attempt. Goodbye Sirius Black, independent bachelor.

Hello Sirius Black, father.

Sirius paused his soliloquy and really pondered over that last thought.

Father… 

Never once did Sirius actually consider being a dad in his twenty-one years of life. With his particular lifestyle, having a child seemed highly unlikely. But now, looking at the white-blonde tufts of hair sticking up in odd places and the snow-white skin of Draco Black, Sirius couldn’t help but feel that being a father trumped all his other accomplishes by a vast margin.

Hello Sirius Black, father. And hello Draco Black, son.

Those were Sirius’s last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep.

***

Harry James Potter was born at 4 o’clock in the morning, July 31st, 1980. His introduction was bittersweet. His parents and Godfather couldn’t help but wish he would have waited just one more day to enter the world.

Sirius ultimately decided to move Draco and himself to a house in Essex, built on a plot of abandoned farmland where the closest neighbor was 10 km down the road. He set up the floo network and only granted access to James, Lily, and Harry.

It was soon made aware to Sirius that he had acquired the loyalty of the Black family house elves. Lily immediately suggested freeing them, but Sirius couldn’t look after all the newly acquired property by himself, and instead decided to give each elf an estate to manage and maintain; Kreacher to clean and take care of Grimmauld Place in London, Tilly to clean and take care of the Lord Black estate in Dover, Pippy to clean and take care of the house in Hogsmeade, Jardy to clean and take care of the flat in Paris, and Corey to join him and Draco in their new place in Essex.

Corey was quickly becoming Sirius’s new favorite person. He was a delightful help when it came to looking after Draco and he made the best dinners Sirius had had since the feasts during his days at Hogwarts.

James, Lily, and Harry would be over at the house every other day and Sirius and Draco would go to Godric’s Hollow in return. There was rarely a night the two families didn’t spend together. With James and Sirius taking time off their work as hit wizards, the routine was easy, and for a while it almost felt like the war was nonexistent, that there was no Voldemort, or Death Eaters, or a threat to their children.

That all changed on the last day of August when the Potters were paid a visit by their former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. 

Sirius took a rather large bite of the biscuit James laid down in front of him. Despite what most might think, James Potter could bake like the best of them. He probably learned it from Mrs. Potter. Sirius could remember her culinary skills quite clearly during the summer between sixth and seventh year when he had run away from his family and the Potter’s took him in. It was a sad day when the husband and wife who permitted Sirius entrance into their home died.

It seemed a lot of his family had perished over the past couple years, whether they were blood-related or not.

His attention turned to his son who napped peacefully in a basinet in the Potter family sitting room where they gathered most nights. Harry lay in a similar basinet to Draco’s right and Sirius smiled happily. It was times like this when he remembered to be grateful for what he had and to fight hard to keep the people he loved safe.

Sirius’s mind drifted to the missing Marauders. There was still no word on the now Ministry-official missing person’s case of one Peter Pettigrew. It had been over a month now and Prongs and Padfoot were starting to let the worry for their friend seep through the cracks in their well-built armor. They got a firecall from Lupin, however, a few days back and he was returning from France tomorrow. Moony also claimed good news. The werewolves abroad would not be joining Greyback's pack in their alliance with Voldemort. After a sigh of relief at the source of good news, James and Sirius decided to keep the news about Wormtail a secret until Remus returned and they could tell him in person.

The sound of the floo drew everyone’s attention away from their thoughts and to the fireplace in the Potter’s sitting room. Suddenly a head appeared in the flames, the head of Albus Dumbledore.

“Sir,” James said, standing up abruptly and facing the man in the flames. “What was the first brand of sweets Lily made you try?”

Even through the flickering red and orange of the fire, Sirius could see the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes. “Mmm…” he mused. “Maltesers. May I come through, Mr. Potter?”

James nodded in confirmation and flicked his wand at the mantle to allow Dumbledore access. When the man stepped through a few seconds later, not an ounce of soot on his outrageous light blue robes, Sirius could only focus on the abysmal sorrow in the line’s of the headmaster’s face.

James noticed too. “What is it, sir?”

“I’m afraid I have some terrible news for you both,” Dumbledore said to James and Lily. When he turned to conjure a seat in front of the couple, he noticed Sirius sitting in an armchair to the right and faltered in his movement. “Oh. Mr. Black, I did not realize you would be here.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes for a fraction of a second and then immediately changed his expression to one of easy-going casualness. He always hated the way Dumbledore said his name, like he wasn’t quite trustworthy enough for Dumbledore to be so candid with. “Alas, I am here. You said you had terrible news?”

“I— yes. But perhaps I could speak to Lily and James privately,” Dumbledore said, smiling graciously, but there was no twinkle in his eyes. 

As he grew older, Sirius had started to really dislike Albus Dumbledore. The old man had been extremely prejudiced against him since the moment he started attending Hogwarts. But Sirius thought, after everything: seven years as a faithful Gryffindor, ten years of friendship with one James Potter, nine outstanding on his NEWTS, his status as a hit wizard, and a member of the Order of the Phoenix for the last two years… He thought this would count for something. Sirius was not just some Black who sorted into Slytherin and became a follower of Voldemort. He was a Marauder for Merlin’s sake. What more did he need to do to convince the great and powerful Dumbledore that he could be loyal to the cause?

And like the universe was answering his silent plea, Draco started crying.

“Excuse me,” Sirius said, rising from his seat and heading to the left-side crib where his son lay. He lifted him gently from the carriage and cradled him in his arms. When he turned back around, Dumbledore was staring with his mouth agape.

“Who—“

“My son.” This time Sirius interrupted the question out of annoyance. He bounced the boy in his arms to quiet him and soon Draco was gurgling happily.

“Oh— I didn’t realize… If I may ask, what is his name? How old is he?”

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but something about the second question struck him. In normal circumstances, “How old is he?” would be a completely ordinary and almost customary question to ask a father about his child. But there was something in Dumbledore’s voice when he asked, that had Sirius snapping his mouth shut with an audible click and turning a suspicious gaze on the old man still standing in the living room.

“Why do you ask,” Sirius wondered aloud.

The long, dark-haired wizard vaguely wondered if Lily had mentioned the prophesy to Dumbledore when she had used him to get in contact with Snape a month ago. His gaze flickered to the redhead and she shook her head minutely, instantly guessing his unspoken inquiry.

“Just a question, my boy,” Dumbledore answered. “I was only curious. I had no idea you had a child.”

Sirius wasn’t convinced as he settled back down into his seat with a squirming Draco in his arms. Something was telling him not to play his hand and that any question he had about the strange edge to the headmaster’s voice would be answered soon enough. “This is Draco,” Sirius introduced. “He was born June 5th, so… almost three months old now.” Sirius grinned despite the weird tension that had settle over the sitting area.

He watched Dumbledore for any reaction, but the old man’s face was a mask of false cheerfulness. “Well it is a pleasure to meet you Draco. Will I be meeting his mother soon as well,” Dumbledore asked raising his head from Draco to look back at Sirius.

“Unfortunately, no. She died soon after he was born,” Sirius answered, his features full of sincere sorrow for his late cousin.

Dumbledore’s eyes cast downward and Sirius felt for the first time that he was seeing genuine grief from the old man for something that happened to Sirius Black. It was an odd feeling that churned his stomach.

Possibly sensing how uncomfortable his friend was, James spoke up to diffuse the silence and brought the conversation back to the reason Dumbledore was in their house. “You said you had terrible news, Sir…”

“Ah— yes…” Dumbledore’s eyes shifted only a fraction of a centimeter in Sirius’s direction, but everyone in the room noticed.

“He can stay,” James stated adamantly. “We would tell him what occurred in this conversation after you left anyway, so what would be the point. Just tell us, Professor.”

Sirius dropped his gaze to his son who smiled up at him. He smiled back, but it wasn’t as warm as it usually was. Sirius suddenly had a very bad feeling that he knew what was going to be said next.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and finally conjured that plush chair, taking a seat with minor hesitation, but hesitation nonetheless. “I’m afraid that a prophesy has been revealed involving your son.”

The three younger adults all sucked in a gasp. 

How did he know? Who would have told Dumbledore about the prophesy?

As far as Sirius was a aware, only five people that he trusted knew about the prophecy. Three were in this room and one was buried six feet in the ground in Dover. That just left…

Snape. But why would Snape have revealed the prophesy to Dumbledore and why now, at this time?

Something happened.

“From what I gather, the prophesy states that your son will have the power to defeat Voldemort based on the fact that he was born on the last day of July and has parents who have defied him several times. Now I’m not sure I take heed in such prophesies, but unfortunately Voldemort has heard these words and I am certain that he will take any chance he can to kill Harry before he can fulfill this prophesy.”

Sirius was sure Dumbledore assumed the expressions in front of him were of shock at the revelation of this prophesy, but in reality each of them were in deep thought, trying to figure out the inner workings of how this prophesy was spread and what that means for the future.

“How do you know about this,” James asked. 

“I heard the prophesy from a seer, but it was overheard by a spy who told Voldemort,” Dumbledore answered.

If Sirius, James, and Lily hadn’t already known about the prophesy this explanation would have been accepted easily. As it was, Sirius couldn’t stop questioning different aspects of this statement.

If Dumbledore was there for the first time the prophesy was stated, why didn’t he tell James and Lily as soon as Harry was born? Who was this spy who overheard and told Voldemort. How did Dumbledore know about the spy? Why do I feel like Severus Snape has something to do with this sudden floocall?

“What should we do,” Lily asked. It was clear from her tone, that she had her own ideas and was merely asking Dumbledore’s opinion to get him out of the house faster. The headmaster didn’t seem to notice.

“I would recommend you put the house under the Fidelius charm and designate a trustworthy secret-keeper. Mr. Black, here, should know how to do the charm, correct?”

Sirius nodded. “But… If I do the charm, I can’t be the secret-keeper.”

Dumbledore shook his head solemnly, but the apology in the movement looked a bit forced. Sirius decided Dumbledore was glad that Sirius couldn’t be the secret-keeper. Again, for some reason, the old man did not think Sirius was a trustworthy person. The sentiment rankled Sirius. He knew he couldn’t be the secret-keeper anyway since the charm only allows a person to be a secret-keeper for one residence at a time. Sirius had Grimmauld Place.

“We shall find someone,” Lily said, thanking and dismissing the headmaster with that simple sentence and pleasant smile.

Dumbledore looked slightly taken aback, probably because they hadn’t asked him to be the secret-keeper, but he quickly recovered and nodded his acknowledgement of her thanks. Sirius guessed Dumbledore was already a secret-keeper elsewhere anyway. “I’m sorry you must deal with this. I hope we can dispose of Voldemort before too long and you can continue your lives unhindered.”

“Thank you sir,” James said, standing up and holding out his hand in gratitude. Dumbledore rose, vanished his seat, and shook the proffered hand. “Have a good school year,” James added.

“I shall, Mr. Potter.”

With a few more pleasantries form Lily and Sirius and a quick goodbye to Harry and Draco, Dumbledore was gone in a flash of green flames.

James quickly reverted the wards on the floo back to normal, before collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh. “Snape must have told.”

Sirius wasn’t surprised by Lily’s quick snap that, “Of course it wasn’t Severus, James,” but he was a little astonished by his own outburst of, “I trust Snape more than Dumbledore at the moment.”

Both Potters turned startled expressions Sirius’s way.

“What? Padfoot, how could you say that—“

Sirius stood up abruptly, clutching his son, who’s eyes were slowly drooping again, tightly to his chest. “He’s known about that prophesy for a year! He wouldn’t tell who the spy was that supposedly overheard the prophesy being spoken! And he didn’t tell us how he knew there was a spy!”

“And I’m betting the spy was Snivelus.”

Sirius flinched as if he had been physically slapped. It had been ages since either of them had called Snape that name, but even still, Sirius shouldn’t have been offended on the man’s behalf. However, he was. Very offended.

“If Severus was the spy, then he probably had a good reason to be,” Sirius countered vehemently.

“You think he had a good reason to tell Voldemort a prophesy that would endanger a child?” James looked absolutely dumbfounded. “What possible reason could that be?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius admitted, but without an ounce of apology. “But you have to concede that Dumbledore’s confession about the prophesy was ill-timed and extremely suspect. And he made no mention of the Longbottoms. This prophesy could effect them as well.”

Lily’s eyes flared protectively. “We must tell them. They should put their house under fidelius as well.”

James shook his head. “They would never do that. Too many people visit the manor.”

Sirius pondered that for a moment. James was right. “What if we gave them a safe house? A place that’s under fidelius that they can apparate to in an emergency?”

“Like,” Lily asked.

Sirius paused in thought. “Grimmauld Place. I’m already the secret-keeper and I bet Kreacher would be delighted to have a pureblood family to take care of again, even if my mother probably considered them to be blood-traitors.”

The Potters started discussing how they were going to explain this to Frank and Alice, and Sirius tuned them out. He had other things on his mind.

Something had happened. Sirius could feel it, like intuition. He was very afraid for Snape and needed to get in contact with him immediately.

But how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I’m obviously playing around with the fidelius charm a bit. I did a lot of research and the charm certainly isn’t cut and dry, so I decided to put my own spin on it. The rules for my version of the Fidelius Charm are as follows:
> 
> 1\. You can’t be the secret keeper for your own secret, so if you reside in a house under the fidelius, you can’t be a secret-keeper for that house.  
> 2\. There must be at least three people involved in creating a fidelius: the caster, the secret-keeper, and the anchor. A house is not a living entity which means it cannot tell secrets, therefore there must be an anchor that ties the house to a person.  
> 3\. You can only keep one secret at a time. If you choose to keep a new secret, the original secret’s caster must break the charm using the reverse of the fidelius charm.  
> 4\. And finally, if the secret no longer needs to be kept, the charm is broken and the secret-keeper is free to claim another secret.
> 
> For example, in the case of the original Harry Potter series, according to my version of the fidelius charm, Sirius was the caster, Peter was the secret-keeper, and James was the Anchor. When James and Lily died and Harry was taken away, that broke the charm on the house under the fidelius as there was no reason for the secret to be kept any longer.


	4. 1:4- Protect Draco

It was one week later when Sirius finally found Snape.

Sirius had used his many contacts in the ministry and elsewhere to find the man, and it was soon discovered that Snape was working to become a potion’s master under the apprenticeship of Master Patrick Llewelyn in Wheekomp Lane, the Cardiff version of Diagon Alley.

He currently stood in the doorway to Mr. Llewelyn’s apothecary and stared hard at the man brewing what looked to be dreamless sleep potion in the corner of the shop. The man must have sensed he was being watched and looked up from his cauldron with trepidation.

Deep obsidian met pale gray. Sirius raised a brow and smirked, asking a question without needing to say the words aloud. Severus nodded and swiftly went back to his potion. 

Sirius waited in the cafe across the street from the apothecary for another hour keeping the doors to the shop just in the corner of his line of sight. Once Snape had exited the building and turned to the right away from Sirius, he left a couple knuts on the table in payment for his coffee and made to follow.

Snape diverted down a narrow side street and Sirius was close behind. After rounding the corner, he grabbed the man by the shoulder and apparated the pair of them away.

Soon they were in the front yard of his house in Essex and Snape was glaring at him with unadulterated hatred.

“Where am I Black?!” The words were clipped, but Sirius just shook his head in mild amusement.

“I thought you’d want to see Draco,” Sirius said. “It’s been over a month.”

Snape looked up at the house again. “Yours, I take it.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Sirius answered anyway. “Yup. Mine and Draco’s… and Corey’s,” he said, thinking of the house elf. Sirius hesitated for only a brief second before adding, “And yours…”

Snape’s gaze was sharp with surprise and frustration. “What?”

“Look,” Sirius sighed, making his way up the wooden steps of his front porch. He didn’t even bother to see if Snape was following. He knew he wasn’t. “I get it. I’m completely weirded out by what I just said as well. But oddly enough, I trust you. Even as early as two months ago, that sentence would never have crossed my mind, and yet, here I am today, saying just that.”

Sirius turned around once he reached the door and stared down at the man below. “I’m pretty sure you were the one who told Voldemort about the prophesy, Snape. But—“ Sirius interrupted before Snape could refute his claim, “my first instinct was to believe you had a good reason. So, what was it?”

Standing alone in the green grass of Sirius’s front yard, Severus Snape was a sight to behold. His black hair, pale skin, and long black robes stood in stark contrast to the bright summer day. His posture was awkward as if he was considering making a run for it, but Sirius knew he wouldn’t. Sirius had just offered the man a chance to see his Godson and be considered part of this odd family. The gray-eyed wizard waited patiently for Snape to answer his question.

“I was stupid and trusted that this prophesy would sicken Lucius as well,” Snape revealed in a voice that didn’t even hint at an emotion. “But Malfoy claimed this was fantastic news and I knew that if I didn’t tell the Dark Lord, Lucius would. If that happened, the Dark Lord wouldn’t have trusted me as much as Malfoy. I made a decision that ultimately granted me a spot as one of the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers. He trusts me now. And I will make certain that misguided faith will mean his timely demise.”

Sirius searched the man’s face for any sign of deception, but upon finding none, he smiled. “Come in.” Sirius swung the door open and stepped inside calling for Corey.

“Yes Master,” Corey chimed in. Sirius still cringed at the honorific, but it was futile to get the little house elf to call him anything else. It just made Corey uncomfortable, so Sirius gave up trying.

“Is Draco awake?”  
“Yes, Corey shall get him. And then can Corey get Master Sirius and his guest some tea?”

“That would be lovely,” Sirius answered. Corey popped away and returned again a few seconds later with a giggling Draco. “Hey there big guy,” Sirius greeted, lifting the boy into his arms and grunting like he weighed way more than he did. “What has Corey been feeding you, hmm? You’re getting so big and strong.”

Corey nodded his thanks for the compliment for his excellent caregiving skills and popped away again to get that tea.

It was then that Snape finally stepped into the house looking unbelievably uncomfortable. Sirius decided to put the man out of his misery and handed his Godson over to him.

***

Severus Snape had never been a person who cared for the annoyance of children. Frankly, that could be attributed to his absolutely dismal childhood and his terrible school years. Children were mean. Plain and simple.

But as Severus looked down at the child his former nemesis just dropped in his arms, at the way those wide gray eyes stared back, guileless and innocent… Well, Severus could see the appeal. Draco was incredible.

Severus took a deep breath and faced Black. “What else do you want to know?”

Black grinned widely and indicated a room to the left where the house elf— Corey— was just setting down the final touches for tea. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Severus nodded and shifted his Godson to lay better in his arms. As they sat down around the ornate wooden table that held the varied tea cups and saucers, Severus couldn’t help but be impressed. Black had really grown up since Hogwarts. Severus supposed he had as well.

He lifted Draco up by the armpits and set him down in the makeshift highchair, careful with each movement, before he lifted the kettle and poured Sirius and himself a cup of tea.

“Well, go on,” Severus murmured.

Sirius hummed. “Why did you tell Dumbledore about hearing the prophesy?”

Severus didn’t let the surprise show. “I think it should be obvious.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Sirius acknowledged. “You thought the leader for the light should probably know that Voldemort knows of the prophesy.”

Severus disguised the flinch at the name with an unconvincing cough. It was getting easier to hear His name spoken aloud, what with his many conversations with Dumbledore over the past week, but it was still incredibly difficult.

“But, what I meant,” Black continued, “was why did you tell him now?”

Black lifted his eyebrows in an expression that indicated he already suspected why and just needed confirmation.

“He knows about Harry and the Longbottom boy, that either of them could be the child stated in the prophesy,” Severus stated evenly. “I went to Dumbledore to ask that he protect Lily and her family. I take it he did.”

“He suggested a Fidelius,” Sirius answered taking a sip of his tea, before continuing. “I think it is a good idea, but unfortunately I can’t be the secret-keeper. I already have a residence that is under my protection.”

Severus looked up sharply. He opened his mouth to ask, but Sirius already knew the question and answered before Severus could get the words out.

“James wouldn’t trust you with it.”

Severus closed his mouth with tight lips. “I see,” Severus remarked between clenched teeth.

“But as I said, I do,” Black swiftly added.

“What do you mean by that,” Severus asked with narrowed eyes.

“Well, if they aren’t going to use you, then I will. I’m sure they’ll get Remus or Peter, once he’s found, to be their secret-keeper. I’ve already offered the Longbottoms sanctuary in the residence in which I am secret-keeper, and they accepted. That was a fun night,” Black added with the most sarcasm Severus had ever heard from the man, which was saying something. “But they aren’t the only families I am worried about. Harry and Neville aren’t the only children I care for. And if no one else is going to use you as their secret-keeper, then I bloody will.”

Severus had never seen the fierce loyalty he knew those four Gryffindors had for each other, thrown his way. It was such a strange feeling, but not altogether unwanted. He felt great pride knowing Sirius was entrusting him, Severus Snape, with the protection of the small Black family.

“This place, then?”

Sirius grinned widely. “Yes. The Blacks have five residences, one of which is already under Fidelius with me as the secret-keeper and another is heavily warded to only allow Lord Black and anyone he allows over.”

Severus blinked repeatedly. “Lord Black? Sirius, are you Lord Black?”

Sirius shrugged. “Yup. Haven’t really told anyone yet. Should make for an interesting first Wizengamot when I arrive and take my rightful seat, don’t you think?”

“Does that mean Potter will take his?”

Black smirked. “Can’t tell you, but I highly doubt he would let me go alone. This might be what he needs to accept his new role as Lord Potter after Fleamont’s death.”

“Well, I feel terribly sorry for the state of the Wizengamot then,” Severus mused aloud. “If the havoc you wreaked on Hogwarts is anything to go by, the court will be under your thumb within the first hour.”

Black chuckled good-naturedly. “I’d like to think we’ve grown up a bit since then, but I can’t help relishing in the daydream I keep having where James and I walk in and announce our lordships. Malfoy’s horrified expression is burned into my brain, and I haven’t even seen it yet.”

“Yes, how I wish Lucius didn't have that much power over the ministry. Perhaps his Death Eater status would be more widely believed,” Severus sneered, before changing gears. “Well, when do you want to perform this Fidelius? And who should I tell?”

Black sat up straighter in his chair and laid his cup gently back down into the saucer. “How about now? And I only want James, Lily, and Harry to know about this place. If I’m going to meet anyone else, we’ll meet at my house in Hogsmeade.”

“After you perform the spell then, I will have a note written. You can deliver it to Li— the Potters,” Severus corrected quickly. That still felt weird to say. “And then burn it afterwards.”

“Sounds good. Now, since I am performing the spell, we’ll have to use Draco as the anchor. You want to hold him again?”

Severus reached for the boy and picked him up. The blonde had been sitting happily in his chair eating the peach slices Corey had given him soon after Severus put him there. Draco smiled as Severus gathered him in his arms again and he instinctively kissed the soft, fine hairs that sprouted from the middle of his blond head. 

“I will protect you, Draco. Always.” He hadn’t realized he had voiced his promise aloud until he looked up at the toothy grin of one Sirius Black. “Shut up.”

“I said nothing,” Sirius said with his hands raised in mock innocence. Next he reached in the sleeve of his robe and brandished his wand. “Alright, I need complete silence. It’s a complicated bit of wand work.”

Severus remained completely still as the recently made Lord Black waved his wand in fluid motions around the area where Severus and Draco touched, muttering different phrases in Latin at unique intervals. Severus made sure to memorize it for future use.

With a final flick after ten minutes of very intricate wand movements, Severus felt the magic of the Fidelius charm flow through him and he knew he was the only one with the power to reveal the location of this house on this plot of land.

“Lord Black and Draco Black live on 93 Subury St, Essex.” The words were pulled from him like a blast of truth serum.

“Fantastic.” Sirius’s wide grin that Severus had always thought to be full of arrogance, now held nothing but a sense of honor and satisfaction at a job well done. 

“When did you become so good at charms, Black?”

“I was top of my class in that subject. Not that anyone noticed. I’m also quite adept at transfiguration. And potions, now that I think of it, but nowhere near as good as you and Lils. Speaking of… Potions Master?”

“It was His idea,” Severus explained and looked up to make sure that Sirius understood who he meant. He did. “He thinks I’m His spy and that Dumbledore will trust me more if I was the potions professor at Hogwarts.”

Black snorted. “You can’t teach kids. Those poor children.”

A month ago, Severus would have taken offense to this, but now… “I know,” Severus admitted. “But I couldn’t very well say no to one of his requests. He wants someone inside Hogwarts, and I’m very glad it’s me. At least I’m on the right side.”

Sirius cocked his head to the side in thought. “I suppose that would make some sense. And who knows, you might not be so bad at this whole teaching thing.” Severus raised an eyebrow in skepticism and Black conceded. “Yeah well, you can only be slightly worse than Slughorn. He focused way more on getting his students to become famous then he did on actually teaching potions.”

It was then that Severus Snape laughed. Actually laughed. It felt foreign but fitting at the same time.

Sirius looked upon him in complete bewilderment and he had to admit, he probably looked a sight. His dark hair was probably greasy from his potion work from earlier. His black robes were a distinct contradiction to the warm weather outside on this late summer day. His smile probably looked manic. He hadn’t smiled without disdain in a very long time, probably since before the moment he called Lily a mudblood and their friendship ended, which was over five years ago now.

And he was holding a baby. Not just any baby either. His Godson. He never thought this would be where life took him. Not in a million years.

Severus cleared his throat and straightened out his face again. “Well then, should I write out that note?”

Black ignored the question in favor of incredulous staring for several long uncomfortable moments. “You are welcome here anytime you want Severus. I’ll have Corey make you up a room.”

“Master called for Corey,” Corey popped in and asked.

If Severus had been paying attention he would have noticed Sirius cringe at the honorific, but as it was, Severus was still too shocked to notice anything after Black called him by his first name.

“Yes actually, Corey. Can you get Mr. Snape here a piece of parchment and a quill? And then set up one of the guest rooms, probably one closer to Draco’s room, for Mr. Snape to stay in when he visits?

“Of course Master Sirius, sir. Corey will do it.” And then Corey was gone again.

Black shook his head in mild amusement. “Lily hates that I keep these house elves, but honestly, I’m not sure what I would do without them. And they all seem to like me, now that I’m Lord Black and all. Even Kreacher took down that horrid portrait of my mother,” Black conversed with a slight shudder.

Severus had still yet to say a word when Corey returned with a quill and parchment.

“Corey has already indicated the room Mr. Snape will be sleeping in. It is up the stairs, second door on the right across from Master Draco’s. Will you be needing anything else from Corey, Master Sirius.”

Severus looked up from his dumbfounded gaze at the quill and parchment to see Sirius considering something. Silver eyes and a toothy grin greeted Severus. “Would you like to stay for dinner? Corey makes a delicious breaded salmon and we can dine out on the patio.”

Before he even comprehended the offer, Severus was nodding. “Alright.”

***

The next day, James and Sirius got into their first fight in almost five years.

Three days after that, their fight ended. Peter was found.

Sirius rushed through the doors of St. Mungo’s and smacked right into James at the reception desk. It wasn’t ten seconds later when Remus arrived. Although Moony had no idea what the fight was about, he was just as distraught over the argument and was clearly glad to see Sirius and James make up.

“You guys are together? Are we done with this whole silent treatment then,” Remus asked.

Sirius glanced over at James for confirmation. He thought their fight was stupid. Severus Snape was his secret-keeper, not James’s. If Sirius trusted the git, that was all that mattered. He raised an eyebrow at his bespectacled best mate.

Prongs rolled his eyes. “Yeah we’re good.”

“Right then,” Remus acknowledged quickly just in case either boy tried to refute it again, and turned to the mediwitch behind the desk. “Peter Pettigrew’s room, please.”

Half an hour later, Padfoot, Prongs, and Moony were gathered around the medical cot of of one Peter Pettigrew, or as few knew him, Wormtail. He lay asleep in a potions induced coma that should wear off any second. Three pairs of eyes of varied colors looked upon their friend with mild apprehension. Sirius longed to see the clear blue iris’s of their fellow marauder.

Come on Wormy. Wake up. Please be ok.

Peter’s eyelids flickered and soon he was blinking up at James, Remus, and Sirius with a sheepish expression.

“Wormtail—“

“What happened, mate—“

“Are you alright—“

“Where have you been—“

“The Aurors who found you won’t tell us anything—“

“Do you know how long you’ve been asleep—“

“We’ve been worried sick—“

Their comments eventually faded off as they witnessed Peter’s smile grow wider with each second. “You guys were worried about me?”

“Of course.“

“Yeah, mate.”

“Did you think we wouldn’t be?” It was Sirius who asked that question and from the look on Peter’s face, that’s exactly what he thought. That was troubling and did not sit well with Sirius one bit. 

How could Peter not believe we care about him? He’s one of us.

“You’ve been missing for almost two months,” James told him. “We’ve definitely been worried, Wormy.”

“Oh— well I’m fine,” Peter said, and Sirius could tell he was getting a little teary eyed. His heart ached for his friend.

“What happened, Peter,” Remus asked, his voice soft and calming as only Remus Lupin’s could be.

Peter lifted an arm and wiped away the tears. “I was on my way to Bulgaria for that— that press conference. You know… the one about letting residents of the area attend Durmstrang.” His voice was small and weak, weaker than Sirius had ever heard from the man, and that was saying something. “I was captured and held in some kind of cellar for days. I have no idea who it was holding me captive or for what reason, but the Aurors who saved me have assured me that my abductors have all been arrested. I heard… well I heard they might be Death Eaters—”

“Or at the very least, Voldemort sympathizers,” James interjected.

None of the boys missed how Peter flinched at the name, but that wasn’t anything new. The rat animagus had always been a bit afraid of the name. He thought Voldemort somehow had the ability to gain more power anytime someone said his name aloud.

“Well, I’m glad they found you,” Remus said. “Were you hurt at all?”  
Peter shook his head. “Just a little dehydration and starvation. I should be all better soon enough.”

Sirius gave his friend a reassuring smile, but in the back of his mind niggled a single thought.

Something’s not right.

***

Ultimately it was James’s idea to make Peter his secret-keeper. Sirius could understand all the points James made about the decision. One, no one would suspect Peter to be the secret-keeper. He tended to be overlooked especially when next to a charismatic James, an intelligent Remus, or a roguish Sirius. Death Eaters were far more likely to go after the more outgoing marauder’s than Peter, surely. Two, if the Death Eaters did decide to go after Peter, he would be well protected at the ministry after their fuck-up a few months ago. It turned out Wormtail’s abductors were only wannabe Death Eaters wanting passage to Britain for their chance to find Voldemort. It was all a big mess, but the ministry had decided to keep better watch over their employees from now on. Three, and possibly what cinched it for James, Peter Pettigrew thought his friends didn’t care that he was missing. It was clear the three marauders had failed along the way to reassure Peter that he was the fourth member of their group. James planned to make that up to Wormy now.

Sirius understood. However, he still couldn’t help feeling a bit apprehensive when he performed the Fidelius charm. Perhaps his new semi-friendship with Snape was rubbing off on other areas of his life, but strangely enough, he had never felt more sure about anything else in his whole life than he did with his trust in Severus. How could that possibly be? How could he believe in Snape with almost one hundred percent certainty but be paranoid about the men he had shared nearly half his life with?

Sirius was flummoxed, but thankfully he had Draco. Those silver eyes and white tufts of hair. Those excited giggles when his stuffed hippogriff changed from purple to green. Those calm mornings when they visited Uncle James, Aunt Lily, Uncle Peter, Uncle Remus, or, of course, Harry. Those early evenings when Sirius sat in the rocking chair near the crib and rocked his child to sleep. Those milestones… sitting up on his own, crawling, babbling. They made it worth it. 

Draco was worth that Saturday on January 3rd, 1981 when James and Sirius walked into the ministry to declare their lordships and seats on the Wizengamot council.

The Wizengamot met on the first Saturday of every month and Sirius had decided it was time to be a part of it. His first priority was and always would be Draco, but Sirius was also Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. And he would be damned if the men who married his cousins thought they might have that title someday.

James entered the court doors in front of him and Sirius could hear the once healthy chatter die down into a shocked hush. Sirius held back a smirk and strutted in behind James.

If that was their reaction to James, who would have always ended up as Lord Potter, I can’t wait to find out how they’ll feel about me.

It was glorious. All the eyes that had watched James as he made his way to his designated seat as an esteemed member of the Wizengamot then turned to Sirius, and he knew he was a sight to behold. Dressed in head-to-toe black, Sirius posed an intimidating figure. His long curly black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. He'd probably have to cut it soon. It was becoming a nuisance. He wore steel toed motorcycle boots, leather pants, and stiff dress robes that opened in the front and had a long tail in the back. Stitched into his breast pocket was the Black family crest, slightly altered to remove the Pur part of their family motto. Now it just showed three ravens underneath an arm holding a sword with the word Toujours in bold letters across the top. It was an exquisite change that Sirius had his house elf Tilly make, especially considering he couldn’t make any alterations to the family ring he now wore on his right ring finger.

If he thought the room was quiet before, it didn’t compare to the silence that befell now. Sirius strode toward the seat where Lord Black was to sit, his boots making a loud click-clack that echoed off the marble ceiling in a delicious way. Since the courtroom was a perfect circle, his seat ended up being almost directly across from the Potter’s and he sent his friend a wink, which James replied with a chuckle that reverberated around the room until there was no possible way anyone could ignore it.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at the men and women in his area who had yet to remember their social manners and continued to stare at him bemusement. “Do I have something in my teeth?” Sirius gave a toothy grin, like the cheshire cat in that Wonderland book Lily had given him for Christmas two years ago. When their stares only grew wider, Sirius decided on a different measure. “What? Kneazle got your tongue?” Then he gave them a small cheeky grin and turned his focus to the doorway where the officials were emerging.

First was Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold. She had just been elected the year prior and with the threat of Voldemort and his followers around every corner, Sirius gave her all the credit in the world. She looked much older than she did the year before, so Sirius guessed she wasn’t handling the stress all that well.

Next was Bartemius Crouch Sr. His son Barty was in the same year as Regulus at Hogwarts and from what he gathered, his brother and Barty didn’t get along well even though they were in the same house. Crouch Sr. was currently the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or the DMLE. He oversaw the auror department and the hit wizards. While Sirius and James didn’t spend too much time with Crouch Sr. during their two years as hit wizards it was easy to gather he was a hard ass who was a stickler for the rules.

Then came the head of the Department of Mysteries. No one knew his real name but most just call him Croaker. According to legend, Croaker had attended every Wizengamot session since his promotion in 1962, but never spoke a word. He just sat and observed. Sirius wasn’t sure what to make of that.

And finally, clothed in pale purple robes with a million small white stars dotting the fabric, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot entered. This would have been a humorous sight if he weren’t Albus Dumbledore. How Dumbledore managed to look imposing and regal in whatever he chose to wear was a true testament to just how powerful a figure the wizard was. He took down Grindelwald and now he would take down Voldemort.

Sirius glanced around the room and made sure to pinpoint exactly where the suspected and the we-know-they-are-but-we-have-no-proof Death Eaters were. Lucius Malfoy stuck out like an engorged thumb, with his long blond hair that matched Sirius’s son’s perfectly. Padfoot almost growled with displeasure. The man should have been in Azkaban by now, but he was a trusted member of the ministry, and when Sirius was abducted, he had very little evidence to convict Lucius Malfoy, especially when his memory had clearly been tampered with and he had no way to explain his escape. It struck Sirius that this was his cousin’s fault, but thought no more of it. He couldn’t go blaming the dead for something she did that actually saved him and later meant the birth of his son.

Still Lucius’s presence was an acid bubble in his stomach, just waiting to explode. Sirius had to turn away.

Next he found Rudolphus Lestrange, Bella’s husband. Sirius was actually surprised to see him there. The Lestrange family hadn’t been active members of the Wizengamot since the 19th century when the first Rodolphus Lestrange had been Minister of Magic. Seeing the man there however gave Sirius a distinct sense of pleasure. This meant that anything that happened in this month’s session would be reported back to his dear cousin Bella. Oh if only I could be a fly on that wall when Lestrange tells her all about her new Lord Black. Bloody hell. A fly would have been a brilliant animagus form, Sirius mused.

He noticed Dolohov was missing and remembered he would be, considering the Dolohovs didn’t have British Lordships. Also, Sirius heard that Antonin Dolohov had killed two Order Members Sirius wasn’t all that familiar with. The Prewett twins, Fabian and Gideon were brutally murdered by what the press were calling Dolohov’s curse soon after Sirius’s escape from Malfoy Manor. Dolohov had been sent to Azkaban with a life-sentence. Good.

As far as Sirius was aware, Malfoy and Lestrange were the only confirmed Death Eaters in attendance. There were a few others that he suspected though.

Nott, Selwyn, Yaxley, Rowle and Travers were a good bet, not only because of Severus’s usually accurate guesswork when the two of them tried to narrow down possible followers of the Dark Lord, but also because, frankly, their families were undeniably pureblood supremacists that would have gladly followed Voldemort if it meant the extinction of muggle-borns. Sirius remembered many of his parent’s dinner parties when he was younger and those five families were rarely missing from the table.

Parkinson, Flint, Avery, and Bullstrode seemed less likely, but could still be possibilities. These four families tended to be less extremist in their views and usually took a neutral position in the Wizengamot. However, Sirius couldn’t rule them out for almost every family member had been in Slytherin at school. While Sirius had to admit that not all Slytherin’s were strictly evil like he once thought, that house did get the brunt of Voldemort’s campaigning for followers.

There were a few friendly faces in the crowd too, now that Sirius looked. Of course there was Augusta Longbottom who was in attendance in place of Frank. After his father’s death, Frank decided to leave the politics to his mother in favor of joining the Aurors. It wasn’t uncommon to take a job instead of becoming a member of the Wizengamot, but it was rare to nominate a proxy that happened to be a female member of your family. Sirius hoped, however that Frank’s decision set a new precedent in the council. He knew for a fact Augusta was made to go into politics and it seemed unfair that she might not have been able to, just because she was a female. He gave her a soft smile before moving on.

As his eyes roamed over a group of older men that Sirius couldn’t name, he found the golden blond head of Grayson Greengrass who was giving Sirius an approving nod. He had been a Ravenclaw a few years above Sirius. The dark-haired wizard nodded back in kind and vaguely wondered what happened to Grayson’s father. There was another reason James and Sirius were gaped at when they walked in. It was very rare to have such young men seated in the council. After James, Sirius, and Grayson, Sirius hazarded to guess the next youngest seated would probably be Malfoy who was nearly thirty years old.

Sirius scowled as he tried to push Malfoy out of his mind again. He turned his attention back to his right where Bagnold, Crouch, Croaker, and Dumbledore took their seats and commenced the meeting.

“Good morning,” Dumbledore declared, his voice clear and clean through the use of his sonorus spell. “We have a few orders on the agenda for today, and as always we shall go in alphabetical order. Lord Black?”

Sirius gave the man a wide grin and rose from his seat, relishing again the glorious feeling of having all eyes on him. There were a few gasps as if they had been denying his reason for attending this Wizengamot session until that very moment. Sirius didn’t clear his throat or fidget uncomfortably. Oddly enough, he found himself to be in his element. Sirius could get used this.

“Good morning. Let me clear the air here and declare that I am indeed Lord Black,” Sirius stated with a smile. He lifted his wand and performed the spell that would make this statement irrefutable. “Unum Familae Migicae Se Nota.” 

The shimmering image of a large cobra, the form the Black family magic makes, appeared in the middle of the Wizengamot circle and suddenly there was an outcry. Sirius dropped his wand back to his side and waited patiently for the dissonance to die down. The cacophony of noise lessened, but only slightly. Then he caught a phrase that made Sirius stop and look toward the man who said it.

“You were disowned!”

It was Lestrange who said this and Sirius had never seen the man so enraged before. Usually Rodolphus had a very calm and calculating demeanor, even when torturing someone, Sirius remembered. It was kind of exhilarating to see the man in such a state now, his face beet red and his eyes manic.

Sirius chose to ignore the man for now. Yes I was disowned, but then I was reinstated by your sister-in-law. However, no one in the courtroom, except James, will ever know that. Let them all think what they want to think. I am Lord Black. That’s all they need to know.

“As Lord Black, of the Ancient and Noble House of Black,” Sirius spoke up over the noise quieting the room instantly, “my first order was to reinstate Andromeda Tonks nee Black as a daughter of the Ancient and Noble House of Black as well as her daughter Nymphadora Lee Tonks.”

Sirius paused to let this information sink in. He waited indulgently for someone to notice his use of past-tense. Malfoy did not disappoint.

“Was?” Lucius’s sneer would have been visible from space. Everyone in the room quieted at once. “Do you mean to say this has already happened?”

Sirius looked at Lucius with as impassive a face as he could make. “Precisely… and they have accepted—”

“You can’t do that without family present,” Lucius interrupted.

Sirius blinked in surprise at the outburst. “Where in the family magic law books does it say that Malfoy? As far as I know that is just an act of common curtesy. And, as far as I know,” Sirius added balefully, “my grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, and brother are all dead, so I’d love to hear who I should have invited to this little reunion. You and Lestrange?”

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it with an audible click. Sirius kept his expression emotionless but smirked on the inside. Malfoy must have just realized that his wife was no longer a viable option in regards to anything Black family related, and it must be eating him up inside. It was almost a year to the day since Narcissa escaped and disappeared. Lucius should probably start considering himself a widow with zero ties to the Black family fortune since he and Narcissa never produced an heir. Lestrange didn’t speak up either, realizing he too did not have an heir that would tie his family to the Black’s.

Speaking of… “My final order before I leave the floor,” Sirius continued as if nothing had happened, “is to declare Draco Sirius Black, son of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, as my heir by blood and rite.”

There was no yelling this time, but nearly half the attending lords, ladies, and political liaisons were whispering to each other, the tittering creating a loud hum around the council room.

Dumbledore banged a gavel and didn’t even wait for the hum to quiet before stating, “The reinstatement of Andromeda Tonks and Nymphadora Tonks as members of the Ancient and Noble House of Black has been heard. The heir declaration of Draco Sirius Black has been heard and noted. Anything else Lord Black?”

Sirius smirked triumphantly. With his heir stated before the Wizengamot, Draco was protected fully in case of Sirius’s death… Not that he planned on dying anytime soon. He was pretty well-protected himself, thanks to Severus Snape.

“No that will be all,” Sirius responded. “I’ll just sit and listen.”

Upon taking a seat, the glowing snake that was the physical embodiment of the Black family magic, slithered from it’s spot in the center of the Wizengamot and returned to it’s nest inside Sirius’s body.

Things were going well for Sirius Orion Black and his son Draco Sirius Black. They also seemed to be going well for his brother by everything but blood. James Henry Potter named his son Harry James Potter as his heir by rite and blood later that day while Sirius watched on with another smile.

However, things never go well for long, do they?  
sd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I really hope Sirius and Severus aren't too out of character. I think responsibility can change people and to be fair we don't actually meet the real Sirius and Severus in the Harry Potter series. Both of them were damaged beyond repair by the time we got to know them, Sirius because of twelve years in Azkaban and Severus because he lost the only friend he had ever had in Lily. I'd like to think these two men could have grown up to become friends if they just set aside their petty differences, so I hope you will look forward to the continuation of this unusual friendship in the next chapter.


	5. 1:5- Spare Draco

Halloween had always been one of Sirius’s favorite holidays. When Lily told him how muggles would dressed up as vampires and zombies and witches to celebrate, Sirius smiled widely and planned to join in the festivities ever since. And this year, he wouldn’t go out alone.

Severus was officially a potions master. Sirius had dropped Draco off at the Potter’s and headed over to Prince Manor to convince his friend to celebrate this wondrous achievement. It took some persuading.

“No.”

The door slammed in his face, but Sirius remained unfazed. After a little over a year of friendship with the brooding Slytherin, Sirius was quite used to his antics. Severus would cave. He always did.

He knocked again and when Snape ripped open the door this time, Sirius didn’t let him get a word in edge-wise. “We’re going out. Grab your finest cape. Muggles will assume you’re dressed as a vampire.”

Sirius himself was wearing a particularly pointy black hat that he stumbled across in Black Manor. It was slightly beaten up after years of wear and tear, so Sirius assumed it was quite old. It probably belonged to a very distant ancestor who no doubt, if given the opportunity, would haunt Sirius for the rest of his life if they knew he was wearing their precious hat as part of a costume.

“And what are you supposed to be,” Sev asked with a scowl.

“A wizard,” Sirius deadpanned, before giving a cheeky smile. “Come on. It’s All Hallow’s Eve. Let’s go celebrate before I lose you to the hordes of children in the New Year, Professor Snape.”

Snape grunted in what most would consider utter disdain, but Sirius knew better. “Why am I friends with you again?” Sirius just laughed and Severus rolled his eyes before accio-ing an onyx cape that he promptly placed around his shoulders. “Happy?”

“Pleased as punch,” Sirius bellowed. “Now let’s go show those muggles how wizards like to party.”

Two hours later, Sirius and Severus were seated at the bar of a London club, raising their fourth glass of muggle-brand whiskey to “Good health, or whatever,” before clinking their drinks and guzzling down the smooth alcohol.

“I think He’s planning something.”

Severus’s proclamation had Sirius sobering up quickly. “What,” he asked darkly.

Snape whipped out his wand and cast a quick muffliato, a brilliant charm that apparently Snape had created himself, before giving Sirius a very serious look.

The wizard dressed as a wizard felt his blood run cold and the music of the club faded away as all of his attention was focused on the man in front of him.

“I don’t know really,” Severus admitted. “But there is something going on. Three days ago… well, He showed up at our weekly meeting looking— He was smiling. It was cold and hurt to look at—“ Severus gasped as if even the memory of the smile had physically pained him and his eyes had turned glassy. Sirius didn’t think the alcohol was to blame.

“Go on,” Sirius urged.

“One second.” Severus reached into his robes and pulled out a potions bottle. The liquid was a slightly cloudy yellow color that Snape downed in one go. Sirius recognized the sobering potion instantly. “I just— I need a clear head for a little bit.”

“Severus,” Sirius warned. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I used to be grateful,” Severus muttered, seemingly locked inside his own head. “He wouldn’t let me participate in any of the raids. I was too important. I make the best potions!”

They had had similar conversations like this before, one’s where Snape told Sirius the ins and outs of Death Eater meetings, but there was something different this time.

“I just wish he would DIE!” There was a long pause. “I feel useless, Black. How can I be a good spy if I don’t know what’s going on? I don’t know who most of the other Death Eaters are and am not privy to vital information on plans of attack. All I want to do is make sure everyone is safe, but I never know when or where anything might happen. All I know is that something is going to happen.”

“Tonight?” It was barely a whisper.

“Perhaps, but again, I don’t know for sure. I told Dumbledore my suspicions and he has Order members stationed in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley just in case He planned an attack. If He did there will be wounded on both sides and unfortunately I will have to help the Death Eaters. I don’t want to help them…” Severus turned away from Sirius as if he were ashamed. “But I made my choice when I was a stupid kid and I have to live with it.”

“We’ll get him,” Sirius declared, grabbing his friend’s bicep tightly until he looked at him. “Do you hear me? We. Will. Get. Him.” Sirius waited patiently until he could see confirmation in those obsidian eyes. “Good, now get me one of those sobering potions. I can’t be the only drunk one.”

Snape nodded and handed over a bottle promptly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kind of wish we were on patrol like the other Order members,” Snape admitted as Sirius washed down the disgusting bile that wizards called potions with a quick aguamenti spell. “I hate feeling—“

Severus’s complaining was cut off by a blood-curdling wail that broke through the muffliato and soon all the patrons were looking at the two wizards with wide eyes. Sirius blinked and noticed with alarm that Severus was clutching his left forearm with cries of agony.

“Sev! What is it?! What’s wrong?! Is he calling you?!”

“No,” Snape managed through the short gasping pain. “I’ve never… felt anything… like this… before…”

“Let me see it,” Sirius demanded stepping up close to Severus and wrenching back the sleeve of the man’s robe with little fanfare. That was one thing Snape never let Sirius see: the dark mark. And Sirius never asked to see it either. It was obvious the mark was Severus Snape’s greatest shame so Sirius let the man have that one solitary privacy. But right now it was hurting his friend and Sirius would be damned if he let Severus writhe in pain without doing something about it.

But as pale skin was revealed quickly, Sirius couldn’t help but gasp. The Dark Mark was bright read and inflamed, but quickly fading. He noticed Severus was looking down at his arm with morbid fascination.

“Wha—“

“It’s fading. How is that possible?”  
Severus blinked before slowly bringing his eyes up to meet Sirius’s, black to silver. He opened his mouth, faltered, closed his mouth, and then opened it again, repeating the process several times before shaking his head in denial. But when his gaze returned to the, now, nearly invisible mark, he seemed to have convinced himself. “I— Sirius… I think the Dark Lord just… died.”

“Bu— bu— but… the prophecy,” Sirius managed at last.

Snape choked on a harsh breath and understanding washed over his expression. A cold dread settled in the pit of Sirius’s stomach. Severus only said one word and that word destroyed Sirius Orion Black.

“Lily.”

***

Lily Potter nee Evans loved her son very much. He was beautiful and smart and all the other things mother’s said about their children, but in this case Lily was being truthful. Harry Potter would grow up to be a great man. Lily was positive of this.

Unfortunately she would never get to see this truth become reality.

“Take the boys and run! Get out of here!”

There was a flash of green light and her husband was gone. I love you James. Lily sent that thought into the universe hoping it would reach him, that insolent, immature boy who grew up to be the man she fell in love with. I’ll see you soon.

Lily sprinted up the stairs to the nursery where Harry and Draco were staring wide-eyed up at her from their individual cribs. The commotion must have woken them up, Lily thought and she fiercely held back the tears that threatened to spill.

“It’s OK,” Lily told them, her voice tight to keep from sobbing. “Everything’s going to be alright sweethearts.”

“Oh, is it?”

Lily swallowed down her fear and turned to face the madman in the doorway of her son’s bedroom. She looked upon Tom Riddle’s face and couldn’t help but feel saddened by such wasted potential. Voldemort was a handsome man, there was no denying that. He had a strong jawline and fine wavy hair. His eyes were a deep brown, like chocolate.

Lily looked into those eyes and tried to slow down her rapid breathing. She gulped, before staring down the end of that stick of yew and bluntly asking, “Why?”

Lily was sure to die. Today would be her last day on this Earth and soon she would join James in the afterlife. She might as well try to get some answers first.

“Oh,” Voldemort said with a smug smile. “Are you asking why I have some vendetta against muggles and muggle-borns or are you asking why I’m here to kill your son?”

Lily shook her head. “Why are you so afraid to die?”

Voldemort scowled and stepped closer to her, his wand held in his hand like a professional duelist while the other slipped into his pocket and grasped the hilt of a hidden dagger. Lily glanced at it wearily but quickly returned her attention to the wand. “I’m standing in front of you right now with more power than you could ever possibly know and I’m most assuredly going to kill you. Aren’t you afraid?”

“More than ever,” Lily admitted, but her voice was even and she didn’t let her terror show.

It was then that Voldemort looked over her shoulder and noticed the extra cot in the room. “And who’s this,” he asked flicking his wand to Draco, his voice so cruel that Lily had to force herself to remain calm, or as calm as she could be when facing her own mortality and the mortality of two one-year-old boys.

“He’s no one.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” Voldemort stated coldly. “But he’s of no importance to me at this time. I’ll just kill the spare after I’m done with yours.”

Lily flinched closer to Harry, her maternal instincts kicking in. This was it. When Lily had first heard the prophesy from Narcissa, she immediately planned on taking extra precautions. The library in Grimmauld Place had been a plethora of old, dark magic. Lily found a ritual that would protect her loved ones. A mother would do anything to save her child. Lily would sacrifice her life to save her baby boy.

“You’ll have to go through me.”

“As if that wasn’t the plan all along,” Voldemort growled. “Avada Kedavra.”

Before the green light could reach her, Lily pondered the sacrifices she and Narcissa both made for their sons. It was strange to think that Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and Lily Potter nee Evans could possibly have anything in common, especially something as significant as this, but alas, here they were. Both dying to protect their children.

Lily let one final thought enter her mind before the light pierced her and she was no more.

Be good to my son, Sirius Black.

***

When Severus arrived in Godric’s Hollow to the sight of the Dark Mark in the sky above a town house at the end of the street, he thought he had never seen a more broken man than Sirius Black. Perhaps that was because he didn’t have a mirror in which to see himself.

His friend crumpled to the ground, his silly old hat left forgotten on the cold grass of the local cemetery. Severus just stood frozen in shock.

“NO!” Sirius cried out that word a dozen times before it effectively shattered Severus into a million tiny pieces.

“Black!”

Sirius stopped wailing and looked up at Severus with cold gray eyes. Snape had never seen hatred like that from this man, even when they were childhood rivals. Sirius looked downright murderous. Snape couldn’t really blame him.

“We have to make sure,” Snape exclaimed, though his voice could barely be heard over the crickets. “We have to make sure.”

Sirius was shaking with uncontrolled rage but he nodded and got up slowly. He blinked and Snape could finally escape the harsh prison Sirius’s gaze created.

They both walked toward the house like they were being sentenced to the dementor’s kiss. Neither wanted to arrive at their destination, but the waiting was worse.

When the house was in view, Snape first noticed the front door which was blown off it’s hinges, the light from inside streaming out with an eerie glow. Sirius gasped. “Peter. Do you think…”

He’s dead? Severus hadn’t even considered that this scene meant something terrible had happened to the shyest of the marauders. But as he reflected over the rules of the Fidelius charm, only one conclusion could be made. “He didn’t die,” Severus sneered. “He gave them up.”

Sirius stopped dead in his tracks and Severus bumped into him. “No,” Sirius started crying again. “That’s not true. No no. NO.”

Severus did the only thing he thought was appropriate in that moment. He hugged Sirius Black from behind as he let the man scream his denials until his voice gave out. Severus couldn’t hold back the tears, but he didn’t say a word. He just held Sirius stoically, trying not to think about what they would find inside the Potter residence. As the last ‘No’ escaped his throat with a broken rasp of betrayal, Sirius wrenched himself away from Severus and sprinted to the empty doorway. Snape watched him go with his arms still held out in front of him. When his gaze focused through the stream of tears he could make out Sirius’s silhouette in the light of the doorway where, again, the man had crumpled to the floor. Black was covering his eyes with the palms of his hands and his whole body was shaking.

“James.”

With that choked sob, Severus was finally able to move and he ran. He ran through the door and kept going, running as fast he could up the stairs and, following the trail of destruction, arrived in the nursery of Lily’s son.

And there was Lily. Lifeless eyes stared up him and it was finally time for Severus to fall, to collapse, to buckle under the weight of his grief. And he did. He grabbed the beautiful redhead into his arms and cried until he had no energy left to cry anymore.

And then he heard a different kind of cry. Severus looked up and stared into Lily’s green eyes, but they were on the face of her one-year-old son. “Harry?”

Snape didn't want to know. It was like Schrodinger’s cat. If you didn’t look in the box, you had no way of knowing if the creature was dead or not. He had to hope Draco was still alive, but he couldn’t make himself look at the crib to Harry’s right. It took every ounce of courage Snape possessed in his Slytherin body to shift his eyes over that minute fraction of an inch.

“Sirius!”

Severus listened for any kind of noise coming from downstairs, but when none came, the potions master felt a terrible panic set in. 

What if he went and did something stupid?

Like what?

…Like go after Pettigrew.

Snape’s eyes widened and he stood on shaky legs and sprinted down the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Boys, stay here.” It wasn’t as if Harry and Draco could go anywhere even if they wanted to, but Snape found a sense of calm speaking those words to people who were still breathing.

Purposefully avoiding the sight of Potter’s still, lifeless body, Snape discovered Sirius missing from the living area and ran out the door.

“Sirius Black!” He screamed the name into the night sky, hoping Sirius hadn’t reached the apparition barrier that surrounded the house yet. “Your son lives! Do you hear me?! Your son is alive!”

From the darkness came a single question. “What?”

***

Over the last year and three months, Sirius had held Draco on this sofa in this room in this house in this village a countless number of times. But he will only remember the first time and the last time for the rest of his life. 

That first day, Sirius sat between a very pregnant Lily Potter and a dying Narcissa Black. That day his life changed for better or worse, because of the single act of a terrified mother. That was the day Sirius became the father to a small blond boy named Draco.

And today, Sirius thought he’d lost that small blond boy named Draco. And so consumed with despair and rage, he had almost run off to kill a man without a thought for his own life. For if Draco died, Sirius Black had nothing to live for. Revenge had been all that mattered.

Then he heard those words. Your son lives! Do you hear me?! Your son is alive!

The world righted itself once again. Sirius was still a father, but now he happened to be a father of two.

Next to Sirius on the sofa was a very somber Severus Snape. And in his arms was Harry Potter. Sirius no longer only had one reason to live. There were two others sitting next to him.

And then a fourth reason walked through the door.

“Remus,” Sirius stated with a relieved sigh. The werewolf had received his patronus message. He watched Moony stare despondently down at the lumpy form underneath a large black cape and then glance up in surprise at the sight before him.

“Snape?”  
Severus, who had sat and stared unblinking at little Harry Potter for the past ten minutes, looked up finally, his eyes hollow and his face a sallow green in the early morning hour. “Lupin,” Severus nodded politely. “We need you to go kill a rat.”

Remus blinked and then shifted his eyes to Sirius. Sirius nodded at the unasked question. Peter Pettigrew had betrayed his friends, his family. He needed to die.

“Why—“ Moony faltered before he could finish the question, but it was like Sirius could anticipate Lupin’s inquiries easily and finished it for him.

“Why did he betray them? Why did he tell Voldemort the location of his best friends? Why is his animagus form so fitting?” Moony nodded. “He’s a coward,” Sirius answered.

Next to him, Severus hummed in agreement and returned to the staring contest with the child in his arms.

“Aurors will be here soon,” Remus said, stepping around the covered body carefully and standing in front of the two men. “I think it’s probably best if Severus isn’t here when they arrive.”

Sirius looked over at Severus who nodded in understanding. Most of the Aurors thought Snape was a Death Eater. He would be arrested immediately, no matter the evidence. And Sirius was in no state at this time to make a clear argument of the man’s innocence. “Sev, take Draco home… please.” 

Severus, too lost in his own head, absentmindedly traded boys with Sirius. “Harry— you’ll get him, right?”

“Of course,” Sirius assured him. “I won’t let anyone take him. He’s mine now.” Severus nodded and made to leave. “Wait,” Sirius called after him and Severus stopped in his tracks. “Can you tell Moony my address. I’m going to tell him everything.”

Without turning around, Severus sighed and stated to the wall, “Sirius Black lives at 93 Subury St,” before continuing outside holding a crying Draco.

Once he heard the pop of apparition, Remus turned a confused gaze Sirius’s way. “Alright, it’s time for some explanations.”

“First, promise me, right now, you aren’t a traitor… like Peter,” he added, his voice venomous and watery at the same time.

Remus lifted his wand and holding a fist to his chest, declared, “On my oath as a wizard, I have never and will never betray you.”

“Good, sit down,” Sirius ordered. “Draco is the son of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa overheard a prophecy that indicated a child would defeat the Dark Lord and in fear for her son’s life she, with the help of Severus Snape, escaped the manor. When she learned she was dying, she came to me and I told her I would raise him as my own. She died minutes later after naming me Lord Black and accepting my adoption of her son. I had Sev tracked down and named him Draco’s Godfather. He is a spy for the Order that only me, James, and Lily knew about, besides Dumbledore who has no idea we know anything, really. Not about the prophesy or Snape. Three days ago, Peter must have told Voldemort the secret he swore to keep and he came here tonight, killed James and Lily, and tried to kill my godson and my son, but failed for unknown reasons—“

“I know why.”

“What?” Sirius turned accusatory grey eyes to the only remaining Marauder he trusted and asked again, “What?”

“Lily came to me with a ritual. She couldn’t perform it herself since it was to be placed on her,” Remus explained, his voice steady and professional, as it always was when Moony spouted off previously unknown information. “If performed correctly, the ritual made it so in the event that she sacrificed herself, anyone of blood relation would be protected, even from the killing curse. I knew it was insane and at first I refused, but Lily was adamant and I was afraid that if I didn’t do it, she would find someone less competent to perform the task. So I did it. I believe that Lily sacrificed herself tonight and when you-know-who turned his wand on Harry, it rebounded and killed him instead.”

There was a long drawn-out silence as Sirius let this information sink in. Then finally, Sirius uttered, “But he’s not here.”

Remus blinked. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no body. Voldemort’s not lying dead on the floor of the nursery. There’s… no body?”

“Are suggesting he’s not dead?”

“Of course not,” Sirius refuted automatically. “He must be. Severus’s dark mark was fading…” As his voice trailed off, Padfoot and Moony locked eyes in twin expressions of horror.

“He’s not dead,” Remus stated firmly.

“Just mortally wounded, he must have gone into hiding, he’ll rise to power again, Merlin’s bollocks Moony.” Sirius’s breathing was starting to become too quick. He was on the verge of hyperventilating and he instinctively pulled Harry closer to him.

“Calm down before Dumbledore and the Aurors get here.”

Sirius paused at the shock at hearing the name Dumbledore. “Why would Dumbledore be coming here?”

Remus cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Well, he is the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. I’m certain he has heard about the dark mark hanging above a house in Godric’s Hollow.”

Sirius nodded his head in acknowledgement over the reasonable explanation, but inside, he was freaking out. Dumbledore had never trusted him. This should be a fun experience.

***

Remus watched the argument between Albus and Sirius as if he existed on another plane and was only allowed to view this single scene with clarity. Everything happening around him, James’s body still lying underneath a large black cape, the broken picture frames on the way up the stairs that led to where Lily presumably still lay dead and gone… Remus noticed none of that. He was too focused on Sirius’s cold glares and icy words towards the headmaster.

“I am not leaving him to those horrible muggles. James and Lily made me his Godfather and I take that responsibly very seriously.”

“There is no will,” Albus replied calmly, but Remus could hear the underlying threat.

“Oh? You went and checked that, did you? It has only been an hour and you checked to see if James and Lily left a will? Wow.” Sirius shook his head in disbelief. “I know you don’t trust me, but this— I didn’t know your distrust ran so deep, Albus.”

“That’s not it, my boy. He needs to be with family.”

“THE DURSLEYS ARE NOT HIS FAMILY! They have never even met Harry! I, on the other hand, have been here practically every other day. I am his family. Blood means nothing! James Potter has been my brother since the day I met him ten years ago and I am going to raise his son.”

“Remus,” Dumbledore called and those twinkling blue eyes landed on him. “Please talk some sense into Mr. Black please. You have always been the most sensible. If he takes the boy, it would be illegal.”

Remus Lupin had always been the most sensible, that is true. He thought things through. And while the werewolf would never condone illegal activity, he was never one to deny a prank outright. He would just do his best to make sure his friends didn’t get caught.

And there was something wrong with this picture. Something was niggling in the back of Remus’s brain that he couldn’t quite grasp. Remus recalled the conversation again, word for word. And then it hit him.

If James and Lily knew there was a chance they were going to die, they would most certainly have left a will.

“Come here Padfoot,” Remus said, motioning for Sirius to step closer to him. As Sirius ambled over, Lupin noticed the satisfaction in Dumbledore’s ever-twinkling eyes. It suddenly struck Moony that he had stopped trusting his former headmaster. Perhaps he was just far more suspicious of people tonight since Peter’s betrayal, but on reflection, Moony didn’t think that was the case. There was something off about Dumbledore. Remus couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, though.

“Moony—“

“No,” Remus interrupted and let his eyes settle on Sirius’s. “Let’s take this outside. I think the fresh air will do you some good and make you think more clearly.”

Sirius must have noticed the extra meaning behind his words, for a small grin graced his friend’s face before it quickly vanished.

“Nothing you say will convince me,” Sirius said, playing along. “I would never leave that sister of Lily’s to take care of my godson.”

Moony delicately guided Sirius out the door and sent Dumbledore a reassuring smile over his shoulder, careful not to make eye contact while simultaneously making sure his lack of eye contact was not too obvious. Albus seemed to inexplicably believe his ruse. Once they were a safe distance from the house and the dark mark still shimmered in the night sky over James and Lily’s home, Remus turned to Sirius and said, “Run.”

And they did. They ran and upon reaching the outer wards, Sirius grabbed Remus with one arm and clutched Harry tighter to his chest with the other, before turning and apparating away.

Remus blinked up at the large farm house that loomed before him.

“How about I spare you the introductions,” Sirius said, as Severus emerged from the front door onto the wrap-around deck with a raised eyebrow. “I think we all need a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I just want to give a quick thanks to the followers and reviewers of this story. Between ff.net and AO3, I've received 30 reviews and have over 100 people following this story. It's absolutely wonderful. I really can't thank you enough. I love to write and would do it regardless, but you all make this a thousand times better. I hope you continue to enjoy this little story and I welcome any feedback you may have for me.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Rachyl


	6. 1:6- Remember Draco

Grayson Greengrass was an intelligent man, but even he didn’t know how to lie when on veritaserum. But somehow, Sirius Black did.

During the first Wizengamot session of the year 1982, Grayson watched Sirius make his first public appearance in two months. His wardrobe, as always, were black from head to foot, and his long hair was sheered short to fall just above the ears. The cut made his stormy gray eyes even more piercing. There were shouts of “Arrest him!” and “Aurors! Where are the Aurors?” and “What have you done with Harry Potter? Where have you taken him, Black?!” Sirius ignored all these exclamations, strode to the center of the Wizengamot, conjured a chair with a wave of his hand, and took a seat. Then he declared simply, “Bring me your best veritaserum. I’m ready to talk.”

It was rare for a member of the Wizengamot to invoke this right to trial. In the past, the Lords of ancient and noble houses who were convicted of crimes tended to prefer a more private affair, so Sirius’s declaration came as a surprise to everyone in the room. The numerous conversations died at once.

“Fetch the potion.” 

These three words would one day be written down in the history books, for the person who spoke them had yet, until this moment, to utter a single word in any session he had attended thus far. When all eyes settled on the head of the Department of Mysteries, they were met with a serene expression in which Croaker looked like he hadn’t said anything at all.

But everyone had heard it. They couldn’t deny it. So Dumbledore stepped out to have a ministry assistant fetch the truth serum, and soon everyone settled in for the trial of the century, watching as Sirius Black tipped the bottle back and sat calmly in his conjured seat.

Amelia Bones, the new head of the DMLE rose from her seat and strode toward the defendant. Grayson, just like everyone else in the room, was captivated.

“State your name for the court.”

“Sirius Orion Black.”

“What were the names of your parents?”

“Orion Black and Walburga Black,” Sirius replied blandly. Anyone could see the veritaserum was working.

“Where is Harry Potter?” There was a collective gasp and Grayson sat on the edge of his seat.

“I am not at liberty to say as the residence is under the fidelius charm.”

Bones arched an eyebrow. “Who is your secret keeper?”

“I do not have to say as a byproduct of the fidelius charm.”

“No you don’t, but you could. Will you not tell us?”

“I will not.”

Amelia pursed her lips but continued. “Why did you abduct Harry Potter?”

“I am his Godfather and as such, per the will of James and Lily Potter, I am to raise him. I would not allow him to be placed elsewhere in the interim of locating the will.”

That was news to Grayson and he looked around the room to make sure everyone else was just as surprised as he was. Amelia certainly seemed taken aback.

“It is my understanding that the Potters did not leave a will. Is this true?”

“No,” Sirius declared and the crowd gathered began murmuring in hushed tones. “Their will was only frozen and I had my financial advisor for the past two months work to have the freeze order revoked. He fire called me this morning and let me know that a copy of the will was sent to the Wizengamot Administrative Office at 8pm last night.”

Amelia’s eyes widened fractionally and she snapped a finger to a ministry official near the door who went to retrieve the document immediately. After the man had disappeared, Amelia went back to her interrogation.

“If this is true, we will have the documentation momentarily. In the meantime, we shall find out if you are innocent of betraying Lily and James Potter. Were you their secret keeper?”

“I was not. I performed the charm which made Peter Pettigrew the Secret Keeper. It was he who betrayed the Potters.” A hint of emotion leaked through the veritaserum trance and Grayson couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. To perform the ritual that meant the demise of two of your best friends was far worse than having actually betrayed them yourself.

“Peter Pettigrew? He went missing shortly after the Potters were killed. We’ve been trying to locate him for questioning—“

“He’s an unregistered animagus,” Sirius interrupted and again the various members of the Wizengamot erupted into surprised murmurs. “A rat. You won’t find him if he doesn’t want to be found. And I assure you, he doesn’t.”

Grayson could see Amelia Bones blinking in unabashed astonishment all the way from his seat in the top row of the Wizengamot. He knew how she felt.

There was a courtesy knock at the door and then the ministry official from earlier strode in holding a document in his hand. Once he handed it over to Amelia, he declared, “This will has been verified of its authenticity.”

The head of DMLE took a few moments to peruse the will before turning back to Sirius. “Lord Black, it says here that in the case of the death of James and Lily Potter, you would be given the responsibility of one Harry Potter and if you weren’t at liberty to do so, the responsibility would then be given to Frank and Alice Longbottom?”

“Yes,” Sirius confirmed, glancing up at Augusta Longbottom. “Frank and Alice admitted that they both planned on remaining in their chosen occupations as Aurors even after the birth of their son Neville and felt I would provide a better home for Harry at this time. James and Lily agreed to this arrangement.”

“Do you know where the Longbottoms are?” Again, Grayson was on the edge of his seat. Frank, Alice, and Neville had been missing almost as long as Sirius and Harry.

“Yes. They are safe. They currently reside in the residence in which I am the secret keeper. After the break-in by Roldolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix Lestrange, as well as Bartemius Crouch Jr., Frank and Alice escaped with their son, Neville, to the safe house I had set up for them should they need it. As the wizards and witch responsible have yet to be locked up in Azkaban, the Longbottoms have agreed to await the verdict of their impending trial, wanting to keep their son safe from the Death Eaters who threatened extended torture and murder.”

Grayson swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat and glanced at the empty seat where Rudolphus sat a mere three months ago. Then his eyes couldn’t help but flicker to Lucius. The man also bore the dark mark, faded now after the death of Voldemort, but still recognizable. That November 1st Wizengamot would always be remembered for many reasons, one of which being the day Lucius Malfoy walked in, a look of pure terror upon his face, showed the faded mark, declared Voldemort was dead, and that he had been under the imperius curse. Bagnold had performed the proper spells and discovered that there had been a imperius curse placed upon the man and with no further evidence to prove the man was anything but innocent, Lucius took his seat in the Wizengamot with little to no argument. Malfoy was a wealthy individual with old family roots. If anyone tried to deny his claim, they would be broke within the month. That day had been one of the most surreal experiences of Grayson’s life.

Today’s Wizengamot session wasn’t really a walk in the park either. Perhaps his uncle was right when he made Grayson lord of house Greengrass on his death bed, for Grayson could see now how rewarding a seat on the council could be. He had never thought much of politics, but as he watched Sirius Black, a man two years his younger but with a great destiny upon his shoulders, he couldn’t help but feel he was a part of something big. Grayson Greengrass decided then and there that he would take his position as an esteemed member of the Wizengamot seriously. People would remember him for the good he did. He promised himself that.

“And is it true you are a single parent?”

“That is correct. I have a son named Draco.”

“And do you think you can provide a nice and safe household for Harry Potter.”

“One never knows these things, but I’m positive I can provide for Harry better than Lily’s sister and her family.”

Bones blinked. “Why would you bring them up, Mr. Black? They weren’t even mentioned in the will.”

“That is where Dumbledore wanted to take Harry to be raised. I told him in plain words, ‘Absolutely not.’”

All eyes shifted to the Chief Warlock and it became quite clear that the man had become increasingly uncomfortable throughout the interrogation, though no one would dare mention it unless they were behind closed doors. Albus Dumbledore was still a man of great power, so it was no surprise when Amelia overlooked that detail in the explanation.

“Do you know why Lily’s sister was left out of the will?”

“Lily and Petunia had grown apart. From what I gathered through the little contact I had with Mrs. Dursley, the woman despised magic. She called her sister a freak on multiple occasions and Mr. Dursley was worse. We hadn’t seen either of them since the Potter wedding where Lily and Petunia had gotten into a fight. Petunia left early, never to be seen again. They would never have accepted Harry as a member of their household, especially when he started displaying acts of accidental magic.”

Amelia nodded her head in understanding. “I see no reason you should not be Harry Potter’s guardian, but I have a few more questions before you are free of all charges.” Sirius nodded and let an expression of relief wash over his handsome features. “Have you ever received the dark mark?”

“No,” Sirius replied easily and pulled back the left sleeve of his black robes to reinforce his statement. Grayson squinted at the offending area of skin, but even from this height he could tell the arm was smooth and blemish-free.

“Good. Now, have you been in contact with anyone who bears the dark mark in the last two months since your disappearance?”

Sirius didn’t answer right away. In fact, his face was lined with confusion as if he didn’t quite understand the question. The silence in the room that followed was like a vacuum. It was as if everyone in the world had ceased breathing. All eyes were on the dark-haired wizard in the center of the room and Grayson would think the man was trying to fight the veritaserum if not for the look of complete befuddlement upon his face.

“No.” The word was soft, but in the silence, could be heard by every member in the circular room.

Amelia scrutinized Sirius Black for several long seconds and then called for a ministry official who handed over another bottle of the truth serum.

“Drink,” she ordered. He did without complaint. “Now, I ask again, have you been in contact wth anyone who bears the dark mark in the last two months?”

“No.”

The answer was immediate this time and everyone in the room could breathe again. However, Grayson Greengrass was an intelligent man. He didn’t know how to lie when on veritaserum, but he did know how to lie. The sorting hat almost put him in Slytherin for that very reason. And he could spot a fib from a mile away. His daughters would hardly be able to get away with anything.

Sirius Black had just lied. Grayson should be worried that someone had found a loophole in the serum. He should be terrified that this same person would be responsible for the upbringing of the boy who saved the wizarding world. He should speak up. He should call Sirius Black a liar, have him locked up in Azkaban.

He did none of those things. Instead Grayson Greengrass, lord of the ancient and noble house of Greengrass, smiled. Grayson believed the dark-haired wizard had a good reason for lying. He did not think Sirius was a bad person. So he made himself another promise. He would find out how and why Sirius had lied, for Grayson Greengrass was an intelligent man and, as a byproduct, a curious man. A very curious man.

***

After being cleared of all charges, Sirius made his leave. It was clear most of the people were still unhappy that Sirius remained Harry Potter’s guardian, especially Albus, but the marauder barely gave them a second thought.

Something had happened while he was under veritaserum that Sirius couldn’t explain. When Miss Bones asked him that last question, Sirius wanted to answer in the affirmative. Every part of his body was telling him that he was indeed in contact with someone who bore the dark mark, but when he searched his mind, he couldn’t find out who that person was. So he had faltered. His confusion mounted as he searched his memories and after finding no reason for him to negate the inquiry, had replied with a simple, “No.” Obviously unconvinced and rightfully thinking the veritaserum had diminished, the head of the DMLE forced down more of the truth serum and this time, Sirius replied without hesitation, for he had already answered and there was no reason for him to delay and deliberate the the odd feeling in his body that refused to believe he was telling the truth.

Once he reached the atrium of the ministry, he safely apparated back to his home, only to be greeted with a surprise that added to his confusion tenfold. There, on his porch, stood Severus Snape, and the greasy git seemed to be waiting for him with a nervous energy that actually frightened Sirius.

“Snape? What… are you…”

Snape licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Sirius Orion Black lives on 93 Subury Street.”

And for the second time in his twenty-three year old life, Sirius was lost in the memories of his forgotten past.

***

***One week earlier, Boxing Day***

“Sev, come on.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “What if it doesn’t work?”

Sirius stepped a foot closer and looked into those dark eyes. The animagus remembered the last time Severus looked this worried, the day Lily and James died and Harry became an orphan. Those eyes were painful to look at and Sirius sucked in a breath as he readied himself to give the pep talk of lifetime. “If it doesn’t work, I trust you to convince me,” Sirius stated firmly. “If it doesn’t work, and I don’t remember you or Narcissa or any mention of horcruxes, you will stand on the porch in the freezing winter air and convince me. I will believe you, because you made me trust you once and you most certainly can do it again. But more importantly Severus Snape, while I might trust in your abilities to make me believe you, I trust more in your abilities as a wizard. It will work, because you won’t let it not work. You, Sev, are a very talented occlumens and legilimens and I have no doubt that you have successfully learned how to shove memories behind a door that will open on a key phrase in less than two months. So you are going to do this. You are going to obliviate me so I can attend that bloody Wizengamot and clear my name without endangering you or Draco.”

Severus lowered his hand from his nose slowly and Sirius watched the emerging lines of determination that shaped the man’s face with triumph.

“There are quite a few memories that will need to be altered. You will most definitely experience some confusion,” Severus explained in a decent imitation of Remus when the marauders were revising for their OWLS.

“And in one week, you’ll be back and you’ll say, ‘Sirius Orion Black lives on 93 Subury Street,’ and I’ll remember. I’ll remember all about you and Draco and everything we’ve learned about Voldemort,” Sirius added. “And I’ll be free.”

There were no sappy words, no goodbyes. Severus leveled his wand and incanted, “Obliviate.”

Sirius looked around his living room, the sun shining through the clouds creating a slightly more gloomy atmosphere than was probably warranted for the day after Christmas, but Sirius couldn’t help but feel was indicative of his own mood. He felt like a part of him was missing and he looked around the gold-painted room to see if he could find whatever it was, but there was nothing there.

He sat in the reclining chair and looked down at the scattered notes and issues of the Daily Prophet spouting lies about him. Right, that’s what I was doing. I was trying to ready myself for the trial by Wizengamot. Why did I get up?

Sirius paused, lost in thought, but he couldn’t remember what had prompted him to rise from his seat. It didn’t matter. Sirius picked up the quill and parchment and resumed his diligent note taking. Corey popped in a few minutes later looking strangely despondent, but when Sirius asked him about it, the house elf shook himself out of his terrible mood and told him that dinner had been prepared. When Sirius nodded his thanks, he rose from the seat and headed to the dining room where Draco and Harry were already eating their porridge. Sirius took a seat in his usual spot and ate his supper, a delicious lobster bisque, in complete silence. 

He couldn’t help but think the table looked emptier than usual.

***

***Present***

“OH BLOODY HELL THAT HURTS!” Sirius clutched his head in unadulterated pain as all the memories rushed out of their confinement and filled his head with flashes of Narcissa and Severus and talks with Remus about Voldemort.

“Black?” Severus was beside him in seconds resting a hand on his back in what Sirius assumed was meant to be a comforting gesture.

“I’m good, I’m good— wow, my head is throbbing— but,” Sirius said, raising his head a bit to give Severus a cheeky wink, “I told you it would work. And you were so worried.”

Severus shoved his shoulder in annoyance and that, combined with his legs simultaneously buckling beneath him, had Sirius careening to the soft grass still wet from the morning dew. “You are a frustrating individual and I don’t know why I put up with you,” Snape informed him, but Sirius couldn’t miss the look of relief on his face from his position on the ground.

“I think we both know it’s because of my roguish good looks— ow.” Sirius brought both hands to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the throbbing in his head.

There was a sigh from the man above him. “Here.”

Sirius forced open an eyelid to stare up at the bottom of a potion vial. “What’s that?”

“Draught of living death,” Snape deadpanned. “It’s headache tonic. I would think you would be able to at least recognize a second year potion, Black.”

Sirius snatched the potion and gulped it down quickly. His head instantly felt better and he could finally make sense of his surroundings again. “Ah yes, headache tonic. I don’t think I recognized it immediately because it’s slightly more blue than the ones they sell in the shops. I’m guessing one of your many improvements, Sev?”

Severus’s sneer at the mention of the draughts in the apothecaries was quickly replaced with one of subtle pride. Sirius rose from his place upon the ground, wiping at a stubborn mud stain on the bottom of his cloak before he remembered he was a wizard and sent a quick scouring charm at the offending spot. “Don’t be so modest. That was possibly the worst headache I have ever had and now I feel better than ever. If I thought it wouldn’t offend your Slytherin honor— like that’s a thing— I’d suggest you mass-produce those immediately. You’d make a killing.” The scowl was instant and Sirius shook his head in amusement.

“So,” Snape stated, obviously ready to change the topic as the two men descended the steps and entered the house. “How was the trial? Am I going to have to adopt two children while you await the dementors’ kiss?”

“Nope, I’m a free man— and occasional dog,” Sirius replied with a grin. “They didn’t even ask anything about Draco’s heritage, which I suppose is fair, but not a single question about Voldemort either. I was at least expecting to be asked if I knew how Harry killed him. But nope.” Sirius shook his head before collapsing onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. “I swear, everyone in the ministry is far too happy to assume Voldemort is dead. They don’t even care to find out for sure.”

“I think we should start locating those horcruxes,” Severus declared. “When he comes back, I want to know that it will be the last time he can before I kill him.”

“Well, that’s great, but I don’t think it will be as easy as it was finding the locket. Kreacher handing it over in the hopes I would fulfill my brother’s last wishes isn’t likely to happen again. And even if we find them, we have no idea how to destroy the bloody things,” Sirius continued, his frustration growing with each word. “Moony’s been searching every book in that bloody library at Grimmauld Place and while there are some that vaguely mention horcruxes, none say how to destroy them. Did you see him at all this week while I’ve been obliviated?” Sirius had only heard from the werewolf once and that was just a floocall this morning to let him know the will had been sent to the WAS Department.

“A little,” Severus stated quietly. His eyes shifted to the corner of the room and his cheeks colored before he continued his explanation with obvious embarrassment. “I’ve been, uh, trying to make a stronger wolfsbane potion so there are less side effects the morning after. He was so tired a couple weeks ago after the change, he could hardly stand so I’ve been trying to make some improvements.”

Sirius’s heart skipped a beat and he stared at Severus in open admiration. There was a long stretch of silence and then Sirius uttered, “What do you think our lives would have been like if Narcissa hadn’t showed up with Draco, Sev? Do you think we would have been ok? Because I’m starting to think we would have done some incredibly stupid things if we didn’t have each other.”

Severus returned his gaze to Sirius and huffed a half-chuckle in understanding. “You mean as in I might still be a death eater and you would have gone and killed Pettigrew. Is that the stupid, you mean?” At Sirius’s hum of agreement, Severus added, “Yes, our lives would have been vastly different, but think how different Harry’s life would have been if we had remained divided?”

Sirius pondered that for a moment before shuddering and purging those thoughts from his mind. That possibility, of Harry growing up with the Dursleys and under the thumb of Dumbledore, wasn’t worth thinking about. It was too horrible.

“Dinner is ready, Master Sirius, Master Severus.”  
Sirius shook his short mass of black curls and returned to the land of the living. He gave the house elf a smile at Snape’s new honorific. It was obvious the little creature had missed Snape during this past week. Sirius glanced over at the man and admitted to himself, I missed him too, Corey. I missed him too.

***

Severus had put it off long enough. The idea came to him during the week away from Sirius and he couldn’t wait any longer to tell the man about it. Supper was over and they had just settled Draco and Harry down to sleep for the night. Snape cleared his throat.

Sirius looked up from Draco’s crib with a raised brow. “What,” he whispered.

Snape whipped out his wand and cast a silencing charm on the two cribs so he wouldn’t wake the children inside. Then he turned to Sirius and huffed a weary sigh. “I have a proposition that I’m certain you won’t like, but I fear is necessary.”

Sensing the importance of the topic, Sirius conjured two chairs and motioned for Snape to take a seat. He did. “Tell me,” Sirius demanded plainly.

Severus opened his mouth, but quickly shut it after losing his nerve and glanced at the boys who laid in their cots. No one ever claimed Severus Snape could ever have been a Gryffindor. “They’re getting older. Nearly two years old.”

“Yes,” Sirius replied, stretching the word out into two syllables as if Severus was slow. “That’s how time works, Severus.”  
Sev shot his friend a glare, because his teasing wasn’t really helping in the moment. “I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“Voldemort.”

Sirius’s eyes widened. It was very rare for Severus to say his name. Usually the potions master would avoid mentioning him at all, and if he did, he would revert back to calling him The Dark Lord. “Ok… I’m listening.”

“I’m afraid he won’t return to power for a long time and when he does, I will be expected to be at his side. Defying a summons from him would mean my certain death, which was why we had to go to such great lengths to make sure I was not mentioned at your trial this morning. Albus saying I was a spy was one thing. Most of the death eaters will continue to think I just hustled the old wizard as that was my job. But if you claimed it… we couldn’t have Lucius or any other potential followers find out I’m a double agent…”

“So far, I’m on board with what you’re saying,” Sirius stated after a lengthy pause by Snape. “Go on.”

Severus heaved another sigh. “What happens when Harry and Draco are old enough to remember who I am, Black? They’ll attend Hogwarts and I’ll probably be their potion’s professor and my cover will be dismantled in seconds.”

Snape watched as understanding graced Sirius’s face and he rose from his seat horror-struck. “You can’t just not be in their lives! You’re Draco’s Godfather for Merlin’s sake! He’ll return before they attend school, surely. We can defeat him before your spy status can be threatened—“

“Sirius!”

Black stopped his rant at the interjection and the only sound in the room belonged to Sirius’s fuming pants. His eyes were wide and Severus watched the man swallow to keep from resuming his tirade. “What?”

“I did say I had a proposition,” Severus replied. “I’ve been thinking about this all week and I just don’t think The Dark— I just don’t think he’ll return anytime soon. I have to think of the future. We have to think of the future, here. So this is my suggestion.” Severus reached into his Potions Master robes which were charmed to hold various potion’s vials without inhibiting the wearer and removed one of the bottles to display for Sirius.

It took a few moments for Sirius to focus on the bottle, but when he did, he seemed to recognize the potion immediately. The man slumped back into his seat and closed his eyes. “Do you have another headache tonic in there? I feel a slight pressure between the eyes.” Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Polyjuice,” he muttered.

“I’m terrible at glamours,” Severus said, by way of explanation.

There was a long silence that settled over the room and Severus watched Sirius take turns glancing between him and the boys, who both continued to nap peacefully. Finally the man nodded and Severus sighed in relief.

“I’m sure you have an elaborate plan that Remus would be glad to refine when we tell him,” Sirius sighed. “But I want you to remember one thing when you’ve knocked back your thousandth vial of that disgusting bile…” Sirius paused. “This was your idea.”

Snape just smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Ok, six chapters of set up is good enough, right? Expect a huge time jump for the next chapter. I might have flashbacks, but most of Draco's and Harry's childhood will largely be found out through context clues.
> 
> Also, I thought I'd let you know what I pictured my versions of these characters to look like in case any of you were interested:
> 
> Sirius Black- Ian Somerhalder  
> Severus Snape- Adam Driver  
> Remus Lupin- Andrew Garfield  
> Peter Pettigrew- Michael Cera  
> James Potter- Adam Brody  
> Lily Potter- Karen Gillan  
> Frank Longbottom- Jim Sturgess  
> Alice Longbottom- Zooey Deschanel  
> Lucius Malfoy- Alex Pettyfer  
> Narcissa Black- Amanda Seyfried  
> Bellatrix Lestrange- Michelle Tractenberg  
> Rodolphus Lestrange- Josh Holloway  
> Andomeda Tonks- Katie McGrath  
> Ted Tonks- Matthew Gray Gubler  
> Amelia Bones- Julianne Moore  
> Grayson Greengrass- Paul Walker
> 
> I'll make sure to post any newly mentioned characters and their fancast counterparts at the end of later chapters. If a character is not given an actor, then they either look the same as they did in the Harry Potter movies (like Dumbledore), or their character is so insignificant, they aren't even worth a description.


	7. 1:7- Deal with Draco

“Let’s go, let’s go. Everyone step up to the portkey. It’s scheduled to leave in two minutes— where is Tonks?”

“Right here, Sirius,” Tonks said popping through the door. “And I brought a guest.”

Sirius raised a brow at the tall redhead trying to hide behind his tiny cousin with little luck. “And you are?”

The redhead coughed into his hand nervously. “Charlie Weasley, sir.”

Sirius relaxed instantly. “Bill’s younger brother?”  
“Well, one of them,” Charlie replied with an easy grin.

“You said I could bring someone along,” Tonks pointed out.

“When I said that, I was expecting a girl,” Sirius muttered. Tonks looked scandalized at the thought and Sirius shook his head in amusement. That girl definitely preferred to hang out with the boys.

“Dora’s got a boyfriend,” Draco teased and Harry snickered behind his hand.

Severus, in his disguise as Steven Prince, stepped up behind Sirius and whispered, “I assure you, Mr. Weasley is nothing more than a friend.”

Sirius shot his friend of almost ten years a contemplative look. Severus had spent seven years teaching the two graduates, so it would stand to reason he would know this for a fact. And the more he thought about it, the less likely it was Tonks would bring a boyfriend on her belated graduation trip, since that would cut down on her flirting-with-Remus time.

When he glanced up again, Charlie definitely looked uncomfortable and his eyes implored Sirius to realize he and Tonks weren’t together. Sirius gave him a smirk and a quick nod to let him know he didn’t believe his son’s remark and Charlie flushed gratefully. Tonks on the other hand didn’t even seem to have registered the “boyfriend” part and was focused solely on berating her younger cousins for calling her Dora. This just made Sirius chuckle.

“Alright, is everyone here?” Sirius took a quick headcount. Surrounding the international portkey were the following: Himself, Draco, Harry, Tonks, Charlie, Remus, Snape as Steven Prince, and Neville with his mother Alice. Andromeda and Ted stayed behind because they didn’t want their daughter to feel “smothered by her parents on her first trip out of country as a legal adult.” Tonks, being who she was, declared that was “stupid” and decided to invite the Longbottoms in her parents’ stead. Unfortunately, Frank Longbottom was away on a two week auror mission so he couldn’t make it.

“Looks like,” Draco declared, rubbing his ear where his cousin had flicked it in revenge.

Sirius pulled out his pocket watch. “Ten seconds. Grab a part of the trainer or you’ll be left behind.” Nine hands reached out and pressed a finger to the shoe. “Everyone, remember to breath. Three… two… one…”

Sirius felt himself being pulled away from the house in Hogsmeade by the navel and he could smell, rather than see, the sea spray of the English Channel, before he stepped gracefully into the kitchen of his penthouse flat in Paris. Severus was next to step in beside them, followed effortlessly by Alice and Remus. They all turned to catch anyone else who came through. Tonks stumbled in and was just barely caught by Remus before an even more clumsy Charlie barreled into Sirius and knocked them both to the ground.

“Sorry,” Charlie groaned, his face flushing to match his hair.

“We’ll have to work on that landing of yours, Weasley,” Sirius laughed under the weight of the tall redhead. When they both rose, Draco and Harry stepped in with barely a slip after years of practice and Neville was caught by his mother. “Alright, we’re all here. Welcome to France.”

“Wicked,” Neville said and Sirius grinned at how much he sounded like his father. The three nine-year-olds sprinted to the closest window and started chatting animatedly about how close they were to The Eiffel Tower and thus, how close they were to La Tourgue Rue, Paris’s wizarding shopping center.

“Do you think the new Nimbus is there?”

“I bet Lamont already has one.”

“I can’t wait for the Quidditch World Cup.”

Sirius pulled out three shrunken trunks and waved a wand to enlarge them once again. “Alright boys. Go unpack and I’ll take you to La Rue. You’ll all be sharing a room, up the stairs, second door to the right.” Draco, Harry, and Neville clambered to get their trunks and there was a stampede as the boys rushed up the stairs to claim the best bed. Sirius shook his head in amusement before turning back to the adults in the room. “Wicked,” Sirius mocked.

“I know,” Alice agreed ruefully, removing her own trunk from the pocket of her robes. “He sounds like a bum, but what can I do? Frank loves it when Nev repeats anything he says.”

“Maybe he’ll grow out of it when he turns ten,” Tonks piped up from where she continued to stand unnervingly close to Remus. “I stopped saying ‘Wotcher’ at that age.”

“Bollocks. You just said that to me last week,” Charlie claimed.

“A’right. No need to give away all my secrets. Any who, Sirius,” Tonks continued without missing a beat, turning her attention to her cousin. “I think Charlie and I will go exploring the city. Cool?”

“I’m not your babysitter. Do what you like,” Sirius replied. “Just be back by the end of the week before we head out to the World Cup. Got to cheer on Scotland, right?”

Tonks chuckled before striding over to Charlie and taking his arm. “We’ll be back by dinner,” she called out over her shoulder and then the two popped away.

“I’ll go check on the boys,” Alice said. “Which one is my room, Sirius?”

“I don’t know. Jardy,” Sirius called.

“Yes, Maîtriser Sirius.”

“Can you show Alice to her room, please?”

“Oui, Jardy will do that.”

“Great.”

As the house elf lead Alice up the stairs, Sirius, Remus, and Severus headed to the large sitting room which had floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Paris on three of the walls. It was Moony who spoke first. “So… Charlie Weasley, huh?”

“Jealous Moony,” Sirius teased and Remus scowled.

“No. That girl is only nineteen and I would be more than happy for her to get over this little crush she has on me, thank you very much.” Sirius did not see that happening any time soon, if ever. Nymphadora Tonks was a stubborn witch and either Remus would eventually fold and date her, or Tonks would die trying.

“Ten years is not that much of an age difference, but I’ll concede,” Sirius said, waving an invisible white flag before Remus could start his usual long-winded rant about being respectful. “So Sev, tell me about this Charlie. Is he anything like his brother?”

Severus seemed to give this some thought. “Actually, yes, very similar… at least on paper. Head boy of his year, Gryffindor, decent Quidditch Player, very family oriented. He took over looking after Percy after Bill graduated. Percival didn’t do nearly as good of a job with the twins this past year. Fred and George are turning out to be quite a handful.”

“Marauder material?”

“Actually I think in the next couple years, they might out-prank you lot.”

Remus looked incredibly offended by this. “Perish the thought,” Moony said and Sirius nodded in agreement.

“We’ll see,” smirked Severus. “Anyway, Charlie, while comparable to William in some ways, differs in others. While Bill was well liked by the general student population, it didn’t compare to Charlie. That boy was friends with everyone. It didn’t matter what house or year, either. Bill tended to stay away from my Slytherins, but Charlie made sure to get to know them all. It was highly amusing, to say the least, to watch my students clap and cheer when Charlie caught the snitch. We still won the quidditch cup, so I let their betrayal slide.”

“So why are you so certain he’s not dating my cousin,” Sirius asked.

“Never dated anyone while he was at Hogwarts and not for lack of trying by the students either. But he refused every date to Hogsmeade with little fanfare, even one from Tonks during their last year. I think he was just too focused on his schoolwork so that he might land his dream job.”

“Which is?”

“According to Minerva, Dragonologist.”

“That’s a lofty goal,” Remus announced. “It could take him ten, twenty years to get a position on a dragon reserve.”

“When Bill worked on uncursing the Black family crypt under the Manor, he told me his mum was terrified when he went to work as a Cursebreaker. She must be in hysterics over Charlie’s choice of career,” Sirius stated with a laugh.

“That’s only if he’s told her,” Sev refuted. “She probably thinks he’s looking for a nice safe job in the ministry.”

Remus quirked his head in contemplation. “Sev, I get that you’re perceptive, but sometimes the information you keep that head is a bit unnerving.”

Severus just snorted.

Just then a streak of white flashed across the doorway and soon Sirius was tackled into the sofa cushions by his tenacious son. “Alright dad, you can just admit what you got me for my birthday. I found where the brooms were hidden and you have to promise to only give Harry’s his next month, because otherwise it’s just not fair.”

Sirius grabbed his son’s shoulders and pushed him into a sitting position beside him. “First of all, I have no idea what you are talking about,” Sirius replied with a grin. “Second of all, if I want to give Harry an early birthday present, that is my right, and I would think if these fictitious presents of yours were actually brooms, you would want your brother to be able to fly with you for the next couple of months.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I told you I already saw the brooms. You don’t have to lie.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes in return. “And where exactly did you see these so-called broomsticks?”

“In their hiding spot.”

Severus unsuccessfully stifled a laugh and Sirius shot him a glare before turning back to his son. “Draco, are you trying to con me into revealing your present a day early?”

“It’s not working, is it?”

“Nope.”

Draco huffed a long-suffering sigh and got up to leave, muttering something about “practicing on Neville” and “honing his skills.”

There was a bout of silence as the three men just continued to stare after Draco long after the boy vanished from view. Finally Remus asked, “You got him a broom, didn’t you?”

Sirius mussed up his hair in exasperation. “I have no idea how he figured it out. I’m not even having Jardy pick them up until this afternoon.”

“Yes, well, look at who raised him,” Severus remarked. “A notorious Hogwarts prankster whose plans always work out no matter how absurd, a bookworm with an eidetic memory that managed to sneak around Hogwarts as a werewolf for seven years, and a polyjuiced Slytherin spy that can spot a student putting in the wrong number of flobber worms from across the room. I’m not surprised in the least Draco figured out what you were getting him for his birthday. And he probably had Harry’s help, because those same three people raised him as well.”

“Two against three,” Sirius observed and gave a short nod. “I can deal with those odds.”

***

It was a long day of shopping in La Tourgue Rue in which Sirius bought every streamer and popper the boys could find in order to cheer Scotland on in the World Cup next week. Then the nine cohabitants gathered in the dining room for supper, which consisted of a delicious French cuisine made by Jardy, and recounted their days to each other. It seemed Charlie and Tonks had an interesting time in muggle Paris.

“I can’t believe we forgot to change out of our robes. We got some of the strangest stares before I pulled Charlie into a Galeries Lafayette. It took some coaxing but he eventually let me buy him that jumper,” Tonks said pointing out the article of clothing like she was modeling it for auction. “The blue really brings out his eyes.” Charlie just rolled those eyes in easy-going amusement. “Of course, once we had that straightened out we stopped by the Louvre and made a fool of ourselves once again when we asked one of the attendants why all the portraits were frozen. I’m pretty sure he was laughing at us.”

“Pretty sure? He was definitely laughing at us,” Charlie argued humorously. “He thought we were nutters. But once we actually stopped to look at the painting, I quite liked the fact they didn’t move. Sometimes those paintings at Hogwarts give me a headache.”

“Sounds boring,” Draco said. “You guys should gone with us to La Rue. They have a sweetshop there that’s ten times the size Honeydukes.”

“But all you wanted was chocolate frogs,” Harry retorted.

“Well all you wanted was treacle tart,” Draco sneered back. 

“Prat.”

“Git.”

Harry tilted his head in acknowledgement and returned to his meal.

The next day was Draco’s birthday and he got his bloody racing broom, a Cleansweep Seven. Harry opened his too and for the next couple of days, Sirius took his sons and the other six guests to a local Quidditch pitch outside of La Rue. Charlie, on his Cleansweep Five, and Draco took on Sirius, still on his Nimbus 1500, and Harry in a few two on two matches while the others watched from the rundown stands. Every game was a close match, but by the third day, Sirius and Harry eked out a victory with ten wins to Charlie and Draco’s eight.

The end of the week meant the night before they all were to head to the professional Quidditch pitch in France where Scotland would be facing off against Canada for the World Cup. The boys retreated to their room to play some exploding snap and Sirius excused himself to his study to finish his speech for the next month’s Wizengamot. He, Grayson Greengrass, and Andromeda Tonks, who had been nominated by Lord Black as the Potter family proxy until Harry became of age, were providing a united front in the fight to bring better education to the wizarding world. Unless you had the money to hire a proficient tutor, many young witches and wizards entered Hogwarts without knowing how to write a proper sentence and Harry thought it would be beneficial for there to be an established primary school, not only for educational purposes, but for strengthening one’s social skills as well. Or as Harry put it, “Draco’s great and all, but I wish I had some other friends that I can see every day so I can complain about how annoying he is.”

“Uh… sorry, I didn’t realize which room this was.”

Sirius looked up from his parchment and noticed the redhead in the doorway. Charlie had really grown on him in the last week and it almost felt as if Sirius had known the man for years instead of days. “That’s fine. Actually can you tell me if these lines sound alright? As a member of this Wizengamot,” Sirius read, “I feel it is our duty to provide a better world for our children and the future of Wizarding society as a whole. And I believe it starts here with the creation of this academy. The Grimstag Institute of Learning will be a safe place for the children of our community to prosper and grow and ready themselves for the magical schooling they will soon receive.” Sirius returned his attention to Charlie.

“I think it’s great, and I’m not just just talking about the sentence structure.” Charlie smiled. “My dad told me a little about this plan when it first started making the rounds of the ministry rumor mill. I think it’s brilliant. When it passes, would you mind letting my Dad know? He has a few ideas about adding some extracurricular classes so people can understand muggles better. I can tell some of the muggleborns at Hogwarts feel a little left out when no one has any idea what football is or who the Beatles are.”

Sirius returned the smile and cocked his head. “And you know what those things are?”

“Oh yeah. I definitely got my Dad’s love for all things muggle, so I demanded my muggleborn roommates explain everything to me.”

“Well… I’ll see if I can include Mr. Weasley in the creation of the course catalog if this bill passes.”

“When it passes, Dad will be excited to hear that.”

Sirius snorted doubtfully, but felt a distinct pleasure at hearing those words. For the first time, Sirius truly felt like this proposal might actually be approved. He muttered a quick “Gemino,” to duplicate the speech and carefully folded each parchment which he then sealed with wax and stamped with the Black family crest to be later sent to Grayson and Andromeda via owl. “So what brought you to this corner of the flat, Weasley?”

“Oh,” Charlie exclaimed as if he just remembered where he was. “I was actually looking for Tonks, but she’s seemed to have disappeared on me. Probably flirting with Remus again.”

Sirius grinned. “And you’re not jealous at all?”

“Nah, it’s not like I fancy Remus.”

Sirius blinked. Oh.

“I— I mean— what? That’s not what I— I mean I don’t even know if I’m—“

Sirius tried his best to keep the grin off his face, because he knew it would only make the man even more flustered, but he couldn’t help it. Charlie’s horrified expression was priceless. “Calm down. I couldn’t care less if you’re gay.”  
Charlie mussed up his ginger hair nervously and quickly closed the door to leave just the two men inside the small study. “I’m not certain I am— gay, that is.”

Sirius rose from his seat and studied the man carefully. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, I’ve never… really, you know… tested it.”

“Ah,” Sirius mused before stepping closer to Charlie. And then Sirius did something incredibly stupid. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Charlie’s.

The kiss was chaste and only lasted a few seconds, but neither man wanted to pull away. When Sirius managed it, his mouth had gone dry. “So,” he rasped, “are you certain yet?”

Charlie licked his lips before answering with, “I don’t know, I think I need a little more.”

Cheeky bugger was his only thought before Charlie captured his lips with his own once again. The kiss deepened and soon their tongues met in a frantic dance that left Sirius lightheaded. It wasn’t as if Sirius had been celibate for the last ten years, but he still yearned to touch Charlie, run his hands over the boy’s tall frame. However, some of his brain function managed to return and he pulled back with a rushed thought of, young, young— so very young.

Charlie, who had somehow wormed his arms around Sirius’s lithe torso during the kiss stepped back and let his arms fall to his side, biting his bottom lip as he looked down in embarrassment. “Sorry. I didn’t—“ Charlie released a puff of air between pursed lips. “Sorry.”

Sirius’s fingers were itching to move and he forced them through his hair to keep them from reaching toward the man standing so very close to him. “No, there’s no need for you to apologize. I’m not really sure what came over me there. You’re here on holiday with my family and we just met and I have two children and you’re nineteen years old and I really shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m glad you did,” Charlie declared with that signature Gryffindor bravery, and when Sirius glanced up he could tell the man was being sincere. “Now I know for certain,” he reported with a distinct sense of pride. “Also, um… I’m twenty.”

Ten years is not that much of an age difference. His words from a week earlier battered around in his brain and Sirius reached out again and captured Charlie’s face in his hands. The redhead melted into the touch and Sirius simultaneously wanted to growl in annoyance and cheer with glee. Instead he said, “Just for tonight. Tomorrow, this didn’t happen.”

Those blue eyes were piercing, like the placid ocean surface before a storm. “I’m leaving for Romania next week anyway,” Charlie said as if to convince himself that he was fine with the arrangement. “The dragon reserve there accepted my application. I got the owl an hour ago. That’s why I came to find Tonks.”

“Fuck,” Sirius exclaimed stepping forward until the redhead was backed up against the door to the study. “Congratulations Charlie. That’s truly incredible.” Sirius stooped down to nuzzle his face into Charlie’s neck and murmured into the skin there, “You’ll have to tell Tonks in the morning.”

“I can deal with that.” And thus the kissing recommenced.

***

Charlie made the rounds to say goodbye to everyone. His family had a tent behind the stadium and he was off to watch the world cup with them. Sirius had offered them all seats in the Black family box, but Charlie joked there were just too many Weasleys and there wouldn’t be room. Severus watched speculatively as Sirius laughed a bit too loudly than the joke warranted, but his friend looked happy, so Snape wasn’t going to say anything about it.

“Bye Charlie,” Draco said.

“See ya around Draco,” Charlie returned. “Keep practicing your Quidditch and when I visit, we’ll destroy your dad and brother, yeah?”

“Definitely.” His Godson’s smile was breathtaking. “Good luck with your mum. I overheard Dad say she won’t like you working with dragons, but I think its brilliant.”

Charlie glanced over at Sirius with a mock glare. “My mum’s not that bad.” Sirius cocked an eyebrow. “A’right,” Charlie conceded. “She’s pretty bad. But she can’t really keep me from leaving so I’ll just tell her all my secrets and bugger off. She can stew on it while I’m in Romania and hopefully she’ll get all her grousing out of the way by the time I get back.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sirius assured him, and Severus felt there was a hidden meaning behind the man’s words. He wondered if Remus heard it too.

“Nice to meet you sir,” Charlie said, shaking Severus’s hand.

“Same to you. Good luck in Romania.” The redhead gave a grateful grin.

“Later Tonks. I’ll write ya,” Charlie called over his shoulder as he rushed away.

“You better,” Tonks shouted back.

Severus couldn’t be sure but he thought he heard Tonks’s words softly echoed by Sirius. He shared a look with Remus. The light-haired brunette had heard it too. Curious.

All casual speculation died when he heard the pretentious drawl of one Lucius Malfoy. “Associating with a Weasley, Black? What has this world come to?”

“Hey—“ Severus placed a hand on Tonks’s shoulder to stifle her words. She looked over at him and Snape gave a curt shake of his head. She nodded in comprehension and remained quiet.

“Oh joy, Malfoy’s here,” Sirius crowed. “I can die happy now.” There was a snort of amusement behind Lucius and everyone turned their attention to the boy hiding a snicker behind his fist. “Hello, and you are?”

“I’m—“

“This is my son,” Lucius interrupted before shooting glares at Sirius’s own children. Not that anybody noticed.

The group of eight stared completely dumbfounded at the dark-skinned boy that looked exactly the opposite of Lucius as one could get. “Well,” Sirius spoke up, “of course he is. He’s a spitting image of you Lucius.”

“I’m his stepson,” the boy clarified with a shit-eating grin, before introducing himself as, “Blaise Zabini.”

“Oh, how is Helena,” Sirius asked. “I haven’t seen her at a Wizengamot meeting in a while.”

“Well obviously,” Blaise drawled with a roll of his eyes. “She only goes to those things to meet men. She snagged herself this one a few months back.”

Severus tried his best to keep from laughing, but couldn’t cold it back any longer. The kid was funny. His outburst warranted a cold glare from Lucius. “And who are you,” he sneered.

“Steven Prince,” Snape answered.

“Prince? That’s an old wizarding family name I thought died out.”

Snape smirked. “Well then it probably did,” he lied. “I’m a muggleborn. The name is just a coincidence I suppose.”

Lucius’s lip curled in disgust and he whipped around and started striding away. “Come Blaise.”

Blaise rolled his eyes at his stepfather’s back but followed anyway, sending a quick wave over his shoulder in farewell.

Sirius glanced over at Snape and grinned wider. “He must be completely daft to marry her.”

“Yes, but he is far richer than her previous husbands. I think as long as he provides for Helena, she won’t off him,” Snape declared with a laugh.

Remus scoffed and argued, “We don’t really know if those deaths were premeditated.”

“Yeah, because we can’t prove it,” Alice muttered under her breath.

“Either way, I feel bad for that kid,” Sirius confessed as he motioned for his family to head up the steps so they could find their assigned box seats. “He reminds me of someone.”

“Let’s see… an aristocratic smart-arse with a devil-may-care attitude,” Remus listed off derisively. “Gee, I can’t imagine I’ve met anyone else like that, Padfoot.” Sirius sent the adults a two-fingered salute out of view of the three boys who were jogging up the stairs in front of them.

It wasn’t until they were all seated in the skybox that looked over the pitch, that Draco spoke up. It was clear all three boys had been ruminating over the latest events for the past fifteen minutes, but Draco was always the one to start asking questions.

“Uncle Steven,” Draco posed. “Why did that man hate you?”

Severus’s eyes flickered over his Godson’s shoulder to Sirius and inquired silently whether he wanted to field this quaffle himself or let Snape do it? It was a skill acquired after ten years of friendship in which they could have long conversations without uttering a single word, a necessary skill sometimes to make sure they kept up Snape’s cover as Steven Prince. Sirius shrugged minutely and Severus took that to mean, “You deal with it.”

“Well,” Severus voiced and waited until he had the attention of all three boys, “That man thinks people like me don’t deserve to have magic because both of my parents were muggles. In fact, there are people like him who think I stole my magic from purebloods.”

“What’s a pureblood,” Harry asked.

Neville answered, “Purebloods are wizards with two magical parents.” Draco and Harry both looked at Severus and he nodded to indicate their friend was correct.

“So Harry and I are Purebloods then?”

Severus took a breath and forged on. “Actually, Harry is what people would call a half-blood.”

Harry looked incredibly confused. “But both of my parents were wizards.”

“True,” Severus granted, “but your mum was a muggleborn like me, and because of that you would be considered a half-blood.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”  
“No it doesn’t,” Snape grunted in agreement. “It’s a convoluted distinction.”

“I’m a half-blood, too, Harry” Tonks piped in. “Mum’s a pureblood and dad’s a muggleborn.”

“As am I,” Remus added. “Half-blood dad, muggle mum.”

“But I’m a pureblood,” Draco asked.

“Yes, your dad is a pureblood and your mother was a p— half-blood,” Severus explained, remembering last-second that he and Sirius decided to make Draco’s imaginary mother a half-blood. Most pureblood families knew each other so it was far less likely for anyone to question the identity of Draco’s mother if she was a half-blood. Narcissa was probably rolling over in her grave at that, which just made Severus smile.

“And Neville?”  
“Pureblood as well. Frank and Alice are both from incredibly long lines of purebloods, the Longbottoms and the Fortescues.”

“So I’m guessing that man was a pureblood, then?”

“From another very long line of purebloods, yes. Although it’s quite surprising. It doesn’t look like he’s going to continue that line if he married Helena and got himself a stepson,” Severus murmured and Sirius looked up from his conversation with Alice with a raised brow.

“That is odd,” Sirius mused. “Maybe he…”

Can’t, Severus finished silently, but somehow Sirius still heard him.

“What terrific luck that would be.”

“Indeed,” Severus concurred.

“So why doesn’t that man like the Weasleys,” Harry asked. “I thought Charlie was awesome.”

“Oh well that’s a hole other jar of flobber worms,” Sirius joked, ruffling up his Godson’s hair to keep the conversation playful. “Lucius considers them to be blood-traitors because while the Weasleys are a very old pureblood family, they… sympathize and willingly associate themselves with muggles and muggle-borns.”

“But so do you Dad,” Draco voiced, his eyes narrowed even further in confusion. It was obvious this conversation would garner many hours of pondering after it was finished.

“Ah, but see, I’m rich. And money means even more than blood for the likes of Lucius Malfoy.”

A silence settled over the box as the boys contemplated this. Finally, Draco spoke up. “I don’t see why either should matter.”

Severus watched as every face in the room broke out into proud smiles, the most vibrant amongst them belonging to Sirius Black. “Me either, kid. Me either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I’m very curious to know what you guys think of this chapter, with the time jump and all, so please leave a review and let me know. If I could, I would send all of you chocolate chip cookies. You all have been so wonderful.
> 
> A few more fancasts for some of the new characters:
> 
> Steven Prince- Matt Smith  
> Charlie Weasley- Prince Harry (The rest of the Weasley’s look exactly the same as they do in the movies.)  
> Nymphadora Tonks- Vanessa Hudgens  
> Draco Black- Tom Felton, still (Except he never gels his hair back. Ever.)  
> Harry Potter- Asa Butterfield  
> Neville Longbottom- Nick Robinson  
> Blaise Zabini- Louis Cordice, still (Because he’s too good-looking and I can’t get his appearance out of my head when I write him even as a ten year old.)  
> Helena Zabini- Zoe Saldana
> 
> Just to let you know, this is just who I am picturing when I write these characters. If you want to picture them differently when you read them, you can go right on ahead. But I think it’s fun to play around with perceptions. When books are changed into movies, it usually solidifies what the characters’ appearances are forever, and I just think that’s a bit boring. That’s all.


	8. 1:8- Raise Draco

Charlie had planned on telling his family about Romania after the Quidditch World Cup, but after three days and no one had caught the snitch, he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Mum, Dad,” Charlie announced when the Weasleys had returned to their tent for lunch. “I have to tell you guys something.” Eight sets of eyes looked up at the second eldest son and Charlie tried very hard not to flinch.

“You get yourself a girlfriend there, Charlie,” Fred asked.

“It’s about time, I’d say,” added George.

The flinch was inevitable now. “Ok, so I suppose I have two things to tell you. First, I’m never going to have a girlfriend and second, I’m going to Romania to study dragons,” Charlie rushed out. He braced himself for his Mum’s wrath and when nothing came for several endless seconds he winked open an eyelid to see what the general reaction was. They all looked pretty surprised. He sucked a breath through his teeth and managed a tiny forced grin as he fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. He honestly couldn’t remember a time when his family was this quiet and still. When no one had yet to say a single word, Charlie tried for nonchalance. He shrugged and went back to eating his casserole.

“Dragons,” Molly gasped.

“Oh finally,” George crowed.

“Yeah, mum, we thought you’d never speak,” Fred sighed in relief.

“Torture that was.”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re going to go work with Dragons, Charlie?” This came from Ron and when Charlie nodded in affirmation, Ron grinned widely around a bite of casserole. “Wicked.”

“But I don’t want you to go,” cried little Ginny.

“I’ll come visit,” Charlie assured her. “I promise. You’ll see me so often, Gin, you’ll hardly have time to miss me. The reservation will give me loads of time off.”

“The reservation?” Charlie turned to his dad and pulled the acceptance letter from the pocket of his robes to hand over to him.

“Yeah, see. They accepted my application and everything. I’ll get to study the dragons and help train them and maybe even go on expeditions to reintroduce a rehabilitated dragons into the wild. It’s brilliant, Dad. If I put in enough work, I might just become the youngest dragon expert since Merlin himself.”

“This says you’re to report in at the reservation in four days,” Arthur fumed, and the other seven redheads roared in indignation.

“I was going to tell you all after the World Cup three days ago when I first got the letter,” Charlie tried to explain, “but then this bloody game went on far too long and, honestly, I lost my nerve. And the reason I didn’t tell you guys that I even applied for the position should be pretty easy to work out,” Charlie continued cocking his head to where Mrs. Weasley was still staring into space in shock. Bill smirked at his younger brother in mutual commiseration and understanding, which Charlie greatly appreciated.

“It’s just so dangerous,” Molly whispered, her eyes full of fright. “And what about settling down with a nice girl and raising a family? Who are you going to meet in Romania?”

Charlie sighed. So I guess she chose to just ignore the first part of my speech then. “Mum, did you not hear me when I said I was never gong to have a girlfriend? Don’t get me wrong, I love this family more than anything, but I don’t want a big family of my own so I don’t need to settle down anytime soon. I’m perfectly comfortable waiting patiently for the man of my dreams to just happen along. I’m not on any kind of timetable.”

There. I said it. No taking it back.

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed and Charlie had to mentally retract his earlier statement for this was officially the quietest his had family had ever been.

“So…” All eyes turned to Percy Weasley. “You’re gay.” His fourteen-year-old younger brother had a way of voicing his sentences definitively, as if there were no questions about it and everything he said was fact, but Charlie nodded his head in answer anyway.

The youngest in the room groaned and all eyes shifted to her. “Does this mean I’m getting another brother?”

A genuine laugh escaped from Charlie’s lips and he silently thanked the gods for Ginny Weasley. “Maybe one day, Gin. Sorry.”

“That’s alright, I guess,” she said sullenly before taking a large bite of her casserole. “As long as you’re happy, Charlie.”

Charlie’s smile turned shy at her words for his thoughts shifted to a certain dark-haired wizard named Sirius Black.

And those thoughts continued long after Canada eked out that win over Scotland in the Quidditch World Cup when the Scottish seeker Hector Lamont missed the snitch by millimeters. Long after he hugged his Mum goodbye telling her he would be careful in Romania over her tear-filled words to stay safe. Long after witnessing his first dragon egg hatching or the first time he rubbed soothing paste on his dragon-fire induced burns.

After over a year with only the occasional letter correspondence with Sirius, Charlie decided it was time to pay him a visit, at least to finally put these thoughts of his to rest. His trunk was already packed five days early for his pre-approved month-long holiday he planned to spend with his family. He figured he should be able to take a few days away from them to visit Sirius.

Charlie settled down at the small desk in his dorm room and, after pulling out parchment and quill, began a letter to Sirius Black.

Sirius,

I heard from my Dad that Harry’s proposal was finally backed by the Wizengamot. Congratulations! It certainly took them long enough. That new Minster of Magic wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him in the arse. Who elected him anyway?

I’m coming home for holiday next week for the entire month of August. I was hoping I could spend a couple days with you to break up the Weasley family bonding. I’ll probably already be in the UK by the time you’re able to respond to this, but I’ll let the owl know to wait for a response just in case. So let me know.

Also, tell Harry Happy Birthday from me and let him know Draco and I plan on absolutely slaughtering you both in a game of quidditch this time around. Count on it.

Charlie

He read it over and almost crumpled it up. He hated it. It sounded too… something. He didn’t even know what. He shoved the letter to the side and raised his quill to start a new sheet. After a minute passed and the quill was still poised above the parchment, not a single word written, Charlie sighed, grabbed the original letter, folded it, and took it to the owlery that afternoon.

***

Harry pulled open the front door to reveal Severus, disguised once again as Steven Prince. “Uncle Steven, you almost missed cake and presents,” he scolded, an unimpressed look upon his face.

“My apologies, Mr. Potter,” Snape replied while doing his best not to look over the boy’s shoulder where Sirius was watching with undisguised amusement. “I hope this gift will make up for my tardiness.” He held up a green and gold wrapped present with an eyebrow raised in question.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but Sirius knew the boy wouldn’t be able to keep up the act for long and was proven right when Harry’s mouth twitched despite his protests. “Well I suppose,” he quipped reaching for the present with bright eyes and stepping aside to allow Severus entry into the Hogsmeade house.

It was a full family affair for Harry Potter’s eleventh birthday party. With the arrival of Severus that made a total of eighteen people currently residing in the Black family town house in the Northern wizarding village, including Harry, Sirius, and Draco (of course), Remus, Tonks, Ted, Andromeda, the Longbottoms (Frank, Alice, Neville, and his new baby sister Abigail), the Greengrasses (Grayson with his wife Naomi and his two girls Daphne and Astoria), and oddly enough, Amelia Bones with her niece Susan. Harry had really taken to politics in the last year with his own education bill being such a hot topic on the lips of wizards across the country and he, Draco, Neville, Daphne, and Susan had formed a close knit group because of it.

Harry skipped back to the living room where the rest of the inhabitants were gathered, leaving Sirius alone with Snape.

“We’ll talk later,” Snape muttered, and Sirius grimaced. That meant bad news in regards to the Horcrux hunt.

After all the cake was eaten and all the gifts were opened, Grayson insisted on teaching the children how to play gobstones with the new set he bought Harry for his birthday and lead them outside on that beautiful, late-July afternoon. It was a testament to how much Sirius had grown for he didn’t laugh at his friend for playing such a ridiculous game as he would have when he was younger. It was a close thing though. But, instead, he inclined his head to Remus and Severus and the three headed up to the house’s study.

Sirius cast a silencing charm and sat down heavily into one of the comfortable reading chairs. “A’right Sev, what happened?”

“The lead we had on the cup turned out to be utterly worthless. Neither Borgin nor Burke knew anything about it,” Snape explained in dismay, taking a seat as well, though far more gracefully than Sirius. “I thought for certain they would have remembered Hepzibah Smith authenticating the cup and the locket, but apparently Riddle was the only one working that day.”

Sirius sighed tiredly. It had been ten years since Voldemort “died” and while they had discovered during their research many interesting facts about the man, including his real name, they unfortunately had managed very little in effectively killing the wanker. They currently had in their possession the Slytherin locket and the Gaunt ring, found in the shack Tom Riddle and his mother had lived. With no idea how to go about destroying them Sirius placed the two horcruxes in the Black family crypt. The crypt had been a mess before Sirius had Bill Weasley, a friend of Remus’s whom the werewolf had met during his many visits to Gringott’s as the Black and Potter families’ financial advisor, break and reestablish the curses. Black Manor was now a fortress. 

After discovering the Gaunt ring and narrowly avoiding the strange compulsion that threatened serious harm via a nasty curse, Sirius, Remus, and Severus doubled down on their research to find the other artifacts Voldemort used to create horcruxes. Remembering the rolling hills and cliffside that Voldemort’s portkey took Narcissa and him to so many years before, Sirius investigated the location but ultimately decided, based on Kreacher’s description, that particular cave was the place his brother had stolen the locket. And now, based on some fifteen-year-old Dailey Prophet articles, the three men were fairly certain they had the identification of a third artifact, the Hufflepuff cup, stolen long ago and blamed on a house elf. Unfortunatly, the lead they had was apparently now in the rubbish bin.

“Bloody hell,” Remus muttered and that just went to show Sirius how fucked they were, because Moony almost never cursed. “It stands to reason he’s made six of these horcruxes, because Riddle was obsessed with the number seven and would want to split his soul into seven parts, but so far we’ve only learned of half of them, found a third of them, and destroyed none. Not a single one.” Moony leaned against the door and pinched his nose in a decent imitation of Snape. “We need help.”

Sirius jumped on that instantly. “And who would you trust with this information, Moony? Nearly everyone in the UK thinks Voldemort is dead and buried, and this new minister Fudge wants to keep it that way. So that leaves the Order of the Phoenix and at the organization’s head is Albus bloody Dumbledore. And he’s the one who let the rumors of Voldemort’s death spread despite knowing he wasn’t. I don’t trust him, haven’t for a very long time. And rightfully so, I think, because no matter how hard I try, I just can’t figure out his motives.”

Remus looked at Snape with pleading eyes. Severus shook his head. “I agree with him, Lupin. Albus is trying to manipulate everything. I didn’t have time to tell you,” Severus continued turning to Sirius. “Before I went undercover in Knockturn Alley, I learned the identity of the new Defense teacher this year. At least it will mean another interesting bet, Black.”

“Who is it this time? It can’t possibly be worse than that oaf he hired three years ago. What was his name again? Professor Dopey?”

“I can’t even bother to remember. What a terrible year to teach at Hogwarts, but I’m expecting this year to be worse. Albus hired Quirinus Quirrell.”

That caught Moony’s attention. “Our old muggle studies professor?”

“Yes,” Severus answered. “Apparently he’s been traveling around the world for the last eight years and has returned to the UK with a turban, an unhealthy aversion to vampires, and the worst stutter I have ever had the misfortune of hearing.”

Remus sighed. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t just hire Aurors for the position. The children aren’t learning proper defense this way and if Dumbledore knows of Voldemort’s continued existence, why does he keep hiring these bafoons— oh… I see your point, Sirius. It’s just… sometimes I have a hard time.” Remus looked up into Sirius’s gray eyes with a sad expression. “I want to be able to trust him. I mean for Merlin’s sake, he’s— well, he’s Dumbledore.”

Sirius groaned and balled his fists into his eyes to block out the world for a moment. Yes, he was Dumbledore. And for ten years the old wizard had tried his best to worm his way into Harry’s life for reasons quite unfathomable to Sirius. It grated on his nerves that he couldn’t figure out why Dumbledore did the things he did. Why he hired incompetents for the cursed DADA position, why he refused the Minister of Magic nomination and let that pawn of Lucius’s rise to power, why he refused to reestablish the Order of the Phoenix when he knew Voldemort was just biding his time. Sirius was missing something, but he couldn’t figure out what that something was. And the last time he felt that way, he let Peter become secret keeper and the birthday boy downstairs became an orphan because of it.

“I know,” Sirius muttered finally. “And I don’t think Dumbledore is in any way on the opposite side of this conflict. He is most assuredly a light wizard. And we probably could use his help to track down these horcruxes, but—“ Sirius faltered because he was about to explain his real fears in regards to trusting Albus Dumbledore. “But, I’m afraid if we let him in even a little bit, he’ll dictate how we handle things from here on out and like I said before, I don’t have any confidence in his plans. I think he has his own agenda and I don’t want that agenda to interfere with ours, especially since I believe his plans involve Harry in some fashion.”

Moony stared out the window of the study with a frown as he pondered this and after a few moments he nodded his head in confirmation that Albus should remain ignorant. “So…” Remus let a grin wheedle its way onto his lovely face as he changed the subject. “I say Quirrell quits after a student pretends to be a vampire as a prank.”

Sirius laughed gleefully. “Severus?”

“Oh, let’s see… I say his stutter becomes such a nuisance the student body complains and he has to be fired,” Sev answered. “It really is quite annoying.”

“Padfoot,” asked Remus.

Sirius’s grin became more pronounced. “I’ve waited ten years to make this bet and I’m positive I’m going to win,” Sirius boasted. “Whichever way Quirrell goes, I say it will entirely be the fault of Draco Black and Harry Potter.”

Severus scowled. “Well, I’m sure we don’t have to wait until the end of the year to hand over our galleons Lupin. There is no doubt in my mind the children Sirius raised will have everything to do with Quirrell’s termination.”

Sirius beamed and completely ignored Moony’s protests that Sirius should have to be more specific with his bet.

A tapping at the window halted their argument and Sirius hopped up to let the owl in. Remus pulled a treat from his pocket while Sirius retrieved the letter from the owl’s leg. He cast some precautionary detection spells, for even though Sirius had wards around all his establishments to guard against owls carrying fan-mail and dangerous letters, one can never be too careful. Alastor Moody’s “constant vigilance” was still ingrained in him from those two years he spent as a hit wizard a decade ago. The wards were probably working extra-hard today too, since it was the savior of the wizarding world’s birthday. A fan letter certainly may have slipped through unnoticed.

But upon further investigation, Sirius recognized the handwriting instantly and couldn’t quite keep the blush from creeping up on his cheeks. Severus and Remus noticed.

“Who’s it from Padfoot?”

Sirius ignored Moony’s suggestive tone and and unfolded the letter skimming the contents quickly. It looked like the owl was waiting for a response. His grin was inevitable and Sirius didn’t even bother trying to hold it back. He grabbed a quill and quickly jotted down a quick return message.

Next Friday, quidditch rematch at the Hogsmeade house. Steven and Remus are taking the boys to Diagon Alley the next day to get their school supplies. Fancy a trip to Ireland?

Sirius took a hesitant breath before rolling up the parchment and tying it to the bird’s leg. The owl took off before he could change his mind. He stared after the owl until it disappeared behind some trees before he remembered he wasn’t alone in the room. He twisted around slowly and was met with the questioning faces of his two friends.

“Hello.”

“Hi Padfoot,” Remus snickered. “Who was the letter from?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Like you both don’t already know.”

“Maybe,” Sev quipped with a rare light in his eyes that Sirius was personally proud of. Little by little over the last decade, Sirius had chipped away at Snape’s resolute, scary, bat-like persona to reveal the Slytherin’s inner prankster. “Maybe not.”

Sirius scoffed. “Fine, it was Charlie Weasley, a’right? He’s coming back to England tomorrow and wanted to know if he could spend some time with me. Happy?”

Rather than laugh, Remus breathed out a long-suffering sigh and the two men looked at him bemused. “Tonks will be intolerable when she finds out about you two,” he explained and Sirius laughed in earnest. He would have to kiss his cousin the next time he saw her for managing to defuse the Charlie situation even in her absence.

“Come on. Let’s go make fun of Grayson,” Sirius suggested quickly, motioning for them all to head downstairs. “I mean, Gobstones?! Really?”

Remus laughed heartily as he skipped down the stairs rather spritely for a werewolf recovering from a full moon. Those wolfsbane potions Snape had been perfecting had certainly worked miracles. Before Sirius could follow, he was held back by Severus’s hand on his elbow. Sirius raised a single brow.

Snape just shrugged and uttered a quick, “Good choice,” before stepping around Sirius and sweeping down the stairs gracefully. Sirius watched him round the corner before breaking out into a grin so wide, his cheeks hurt.

Sirius needed to find Severus Snape a lady. The git would most assuredly not want Sirius to do this, but Sev deserved to find happiness. Unfortunately, for Severus, no one compared to Lily. Even after all this time.

But Sirius would keep a lookout just in case. The right woman for Severus would come along, surely.

***

“So,” Charlie started as he and Sirius strolled around the Irish castle the following weekend, “I need to ask, and am in no way bemoaning the fact that you whisked me away to another foreign country, but… well, why aren’t you in Diagon Alley, Sirius?”

Sirius shuffled his feet, kicking the grass like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He quickly stopped when he realized this and looked up into those gorgeous blue Weasley eyes. He quickly averted his gaze in embarrassment. “I couldn’t.”

Charlie stopped walking and pulled on Sirius’s elbow forcing him to face the redhead. “Why not?”

Sirius sighed. His first instinct was to make light and ignore the question, but Charlie’s expression was so guileless and open, he found himself just wanting to be honest with the man. “Well I’ve been having these panic attacks,” Sirius explained quietly. “I’m perfectly fine and then it’ll hit me.” Sirius grimaced until he felt Charlie’s hand in his. He looked up and Charlie was smiling in a way that meant he should continue, so he did. “It hits me that both of my boys are getting on a train in three weeks and I’m not going to know if they’re getting on alright at Hogwarts and I’m going to be alone for five months with nothing to do and… well, I’m kind of freaking out, honestly.”

Charlie squeezed his hand reassuringly and began walking again, toting Sirius along beside him. He looked up at the castle and Sirius looked too. It was a very nice castle with a few turrets and even a keep with four intricately decorated pinnacles. The place had been abandoned long ago and very few muggles knew about it’s location as the geography of the surrounding area didn’t permit many travelers. Sirius loved it. This was the kind of place he always dreamed of living.

“I like this one,” Charlie stated with a nod toward the castle.

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, grateful that Charlie was letting the original topic drop. “It’s my favorite of the ones we’ve seen so far. I think I’ll make an offer on it.”

That caught Charlie’s attention. “Wait, what? You’re going to buy it?”

“Well… yeah. That’s why I’m here.”

Charlie chuckled in mild exasperation. “Don’t you have three places to live already, Lord Black?”

“Actually, I have five,” Sirius countered with a cheeky smirk. “But I’ve always wanted to own a castle, ever since I was a kid. Plus, it will give me something to do while the boys are at school. I’ll spend the next five months refurbishing the place until it’s livable.”

Sirius made his way closer to the castle, dragging a laughing Charlie behind him. Charlie jogged a bit to catch up so they could continue walking side-by-side. “You must be a pain in the arse to shop for. I mean, what can we get you that you don’t already have? An island?”

“Ooh, an island! Terrific idea Charlie. That will be next year’s purchase.” They passed through the stone archway and were standing in the middle of the courtyard when Charlie pulled Sirius toward him until they faced each other. The redhead suddenly looked very serious.

“Well, I can’t buy you an island Sirius, but I did realize that I missed your birthday last year so I got you a belated birthday present.”

“You mean my birthday that was in December,” Sirius quipped, but inside, he was melting.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Belated,” Charlie reiterated with a smart-arse grin that had Sirius smiling in return. He reached into the pocket of his muggle jeans, pulled out a haphazardly wrapped gift, and presented it to Sirius.

“I can’t believe you fit a whole castle in here,” Sirius joked as he palmed the present, a little disappointed that this meant he had to let go of Charlie’s hand. “How’d you do it?”

“Magic, of course,” Charlie bantered. “Well, open it. It’s nothing much, really. You might not even like it.”

Sirius highly doubted that, but he quickly did what the man said if only to ease Charlie’s mind. “You got me a watch?”

“Umm…” Charlie ruffled his hair sheepishly. “Not exactly, see, it doesn’t tell time or anything…” Charlie poked the watch face and Sirius looked down to investigate his claim. He was right of course. The clock didn’t show the time, but instead it’s two hands, one yellow and one black, were both pointed at the single word “Out”. “My mum has something similar in the kitchen at the Burrow,” Charlie explained. “See, each hand corresponds to a person and it tells you where the person is like “Home” or “School” or “Bed”. Obviously I couldn’t put everything on that tiny watch face like we can at home, but I figured you wouldn’t need things like “Prison” or “Work” since Draco and Harry are only eleven, and… well…” Charlie tapered off but Sirius hardly noticed. He was captivated by the watch and everything he now knew about it.

Suddenly both hands flicked over to the word “Home” and Sirius chuckled with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “Charles Weasley— I don’t even…” Sirius looked up from his gift for the first time since he got it and was lost in those ocean blue irises.

“You like it,” Charlie nervously asked.

Sirius leaned forward and kissed the man in front of him with everything he had. In the midst of their panting breaths and wandering tongues, Sirius could only think one thought: he was falling for Charlie Weasley. When they pulled back after countless minutes of mindless snogging, Sirius’s smile was so wide, it bordered on deranged. “So much better than an island,” he answered breathlessly.

Sirius looked down at the watch again, checking the other words. “Home” was at the 12:00 mark followed every two hours by “School”, “Bed”, “Out”, “Lost”, and the initials “MP”. “What’s ‘MP’ stand for,” Sirius asked curiously.

“Mortal peril,” Charlie replied. “Mum says Bill and I end up there on occasion because of our jobs, but it only takes a few seconds for us to revert back to pointing at ‘work’. I thought about leaving it off your watch, but decided it might give you peace of mind to look at it and know Draco and Harry aren’t in any danger at the moment since it won’t be pointing at ‘MP’.”

“It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant,” Sirius whispered, fastening the watch onto his wrist. “You’re birthday’s in September right?”

“September 14th,” Charlie responded, his cheeks still red from the previous compliment.

Sirius smiled up at him before grabbing Charlie’s hand and leading him back out of the castle. “Great. I think I’ll buy you an island.”

Charlie only laughed, but if Sirius thought in any way that the redhead would accept the aforementioned gift, the older wizard would be more than happy to part with every galleon in his Gringott’s vault to buy Charlie an island. 

He was falling hard. And he didn’t care a bit.

***

The night before Draco and Harry were to head off to Hogwarts, Lupin and Snape were sipping tea in the sitting room of the house on Subery St, watching their friend nervously fondle the watch on his wrist. The boys were in bed sleeping in preparation for the big day.

Remus muttered a muffliato spell under his breath and turned to Severus. “You’ll take care of them, right,” the werewolf asked apprehensively.

The only indication that Sev heard him was the minute nod of his head. Twenty seconds later, Severus audibly answered, “Always.” Remus sighed in relief at hearing that word. He knew already that Severus Snape would do everything in his power to protect Draco and Harry, but sometimes he just needed to hear it. “And you’ll take care of him?”

Moony glanced up at Sirius again. He looked more relaxed than a few minutes earlier, no longer staring at his watch like his life and sanity depended on it, but Moony knew the man would not be in a good place come tomorrow. After eleven years of seeing his children every day, Sirius was bound to be a mess the second the Hogwarts Express disappeared into the countryside with Draco and Harry on board. And not only were Draco and Harry headed north to attend school but Snape would be joining them to continue teaching. Also, Charlie had to return to Romania tomorrow afternoon. 

But Sirius Black had proven himself to be strong time and time again. Sirius Black became a prominent member of the Wizengamot despite his age. Sirius Black raised two children with little fuss or fanfare. Sirius Black lived on after the deaths of Narcissa, James, and Lily. Sirius Black survived being tortured for hours by Bellatrix Lestrange and for years by his mother throughout his childhood. Sirius Black never stopped trying to do better, be better. Sirius Black was a great man. “He’ll be fine,” Remus assured himself, a small smile gracing his lips. “And during those moments when he forgets that, I’ll remind him.”

“Are you talking about me,” Sirius suddenly asked, shaking his head as if to knock the fuzziness out of his ears. “We have a rule: no muffliato in the house.” Thankfully he was glaring at Snape, so he didn’t notice Remus waving his wand behind the coffee table and incanting a silent finite spell.

“We have no idea what you are talking about,” Snape grumbled and Remus nodded in agreement.

Sirius rolled his eyes and Moony knew he didn’t believe them. “Are you guys worried about me? How sweet,” Sirius teased, before he got up from his chair and crossed the room to join Remus and Severus. Padfoot poured himself a cuppa and leaned back on the sofa, casually resting his feet on the coffee table. He took a sip and grinned up at them. “But I’ll be fine.”

“We know.”

And Remus wasn’t sure whether those two words were spoken by Sev or himself, but it didn’t matter. As long as Sirius heard them.

“So… I think we should make another bet,” Sirius suggested with a wry grin that had Severus and Remus rolling their eyes. “Just one,” Sirius promised. “You both have to admit you’ve thought about which house they’ll end up in for years. So come on, lay it on me.”

“I really don’t think you want to make this bet with me, Black,” Snape warned. “I’ve watched the sorting twice as many times as you have and I’m fairly accurate with my guesswork.”

“A’right you cocky pillock,” Sirius mocked. “Five kids. Draco, Harry, Neville, Daphne, and Susan. Go.”

Severus took a few seconds to think this over. “Slytherin, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Hufflepuff.”

Sirius and Remus snorted. “Three Slytherins,” Sirius hollered. “You must be joking.”

“Yes, because I’ve always been known for my stellar sense of humor,” Severus deadpanned.

“But you didn’t even put one in Gryffindor,” Remus countered, shaking his head in bemusement. “I mean, let’s just count the number of Gryffindors who have been a part of Draco and Harry’s life: me…”

“Me…”

“James…”

“Lily…”

“Frank…”

“Alice…”

“Charlie…”

“Amelia…”

“Yes,” Snape interrupted, in acknowledgement, “and there has also been Slytherin’s: me, Narcissa, Andromeda, and Naomi. Hufflepuffs: Ted, Dora, and Susan’s parents. And a Ravenclaw in Grayson. Not that any of that should matter, mind you, because you have to admit Sirius Black,” Snape sneered with extra emphasis on Sirius’s surname, “to the sorting hat, it really doesn’t matter who had a hand in raising the student. You’re living proof.”

Sirius practically snarled before catching himself. He squinted his eyes and tilted his head in contemplation. “I still say there’s a Gryffindor amongst them,” Sirius grumbled.

“And I think Daphne will be a Ravenclaw,” Remus added. “That girl is almost too smart for her own good.”

“So are you, Lupin,” Snape challenged. “Alright,” he continued raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Instead of betting on which student will end up where, let’s just bet how many for each house. I say, three Slytherins and two Hufflepuffs.”

Sirius nodded acceptance to the new betting rules, but still sniffed at Severus’s decision. “I say three Gryffindors, a Ravenclaw, and a Slytherin.”

Both men turned to Remus who took a few seconds to consider. “Two Gryffindors, and one for each of the other houses.” Moony calculated that his wager would be fairly accurate if the students were sorted by who their birth parents were, rather than who raised them. Sometimes genetics really did play a part in personality. Sirius was an exception, and although there might be another exception in the group of five they were betting on, Remus Lupin was willing to put money on this birth-parent-hypothesis. And Remus would only have to wait one more day to test this theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- So what do you guys think? Obviously I’ve already made my decision, but I’d love to know how you guys would have sorted these slightly altered versions of JK Rowling’s incredible characters.
> 
> More fancasts:
> 
> Naomi Greengrass- Kate Hudson  
> Daphne Greengrass- AnnaSophia Robb  
> Astoria Greengrass- Sabrina Carpenter  
> Susan Bones- Sophie Turner


	9. 1:9- Think, Draco

Armed with an empty bird cage, a shrunken trunk in the pocket of his trousers, and a wand, ten-inches made of hawthorn wood with a unicorn hair core, hidden up the sleeve of his tee, Draco Sirius Black stood in front of the pillar between platforms nine and ten of Kings Cross Station. His father was standing to his right and his brother to his left. They were an hour early.

“This is ridiculous,” Draco muttered.

His dad gave a lofty sigh. “Just a few more seconds. I think you can handle it, Draco.”

“We’re the only ones here, Dad,” Draco complained. “Actually, thank Merlin for that. This is tragic. We look like utter losers.”

A quick hand smacked the back of Draco’s head and he sent his dad a glare. He had spent quite a lot of time that morning making sure his hair was perfectly styled to look like he gave zero shits. His dad better not have messed it up.

“He’s right. Only nutters show up an hour early to platform nine and three quarters,” Harry said behind him and Draco sent his father a smug smirk.

Sirius glared back. “Yes, well, if you too weren’t nervously running around the kitchen like pixies on muggle acid, I may have been inclined to wait a little longer to—“

“Excuse me.” The three wizards twisted around to find a young girl with bushy brown hair, amber eyes, and straight white teeth. She was flagged on either side by an older man and woman who could only be her parents, for their similarities were undeniable. The middle-aged couple were dressed in muggle attire while the girl was already in her school robes. “Umm… sorry to bother you, but, well, do you know how to get to platform nine and three quarters? My pamphlet here clearly states that the passage should open at ten o’clock, but I can’t seem to locate it. Also written here, well it’s the craziest thing. It says I should walk through the barrier…?”

By this time, Draco and Harry were trying there best to hold back their laughter, while their father was giving the girl a scolding look. “Do you not know about the statute of secrecy young lady?” Draco was now busting a gut, undermining his dad’s strict tone and that earned him another smack to the back of the head. “Draco, really? I’m trying to be an adult here,” his dad reprimanded while losing a fighting battle with a bubble of laughter in his throat.

“Oh, of course I know about the statute of secrecy. I’ve read the ministry manual cover-to-cover three times just to be sure. I’m very sorry, sir,” the girl rushed out. “It’s just… well, I knew you three were wizards.”

“You did,” Harry asked. “How?”

“Well,” the girl stated primly and Draco was fairly sure she was about to utterly trounce them with her knowledge. “First, there’s the bird cages. Presumably for owls, although empty because the owls are already off to Hogwarts. Second, and I don’t mean to be rude, but your clothes aren’t quite as muggle as you probably think they are. Of course, you all are blending easily as long as no one pays attention, but as I was, paying attention that is, I did notice that your garments are rather outdated and no longer in fashion. And that might not be odd if only one of you were dressed as such, for that would be considered vintage in most circles, but all three is rather unusual. I should also add that it is a rather warm day and you three are all wearing long-sleeved shirts, and if you look closely one might be able to deduce that the bumps along the forearms of your dominant hands could be hiding your wands. And finally, while trying to gain as much information as I could on wizarding society over the summer since I received my acceptance letter, I did read about Harry Potter and know that he has a scar above his right brow that is quite easily recognizable, for it is shaped like a lightning bolt.”

Draco scowled at the girl for even bringing up his brother’s rather bothersome famous persona as the boy-who-live, but Harry looked up at Sirius with a roll of his eyes in good humor. “You never told me I was written about in books, Sirius. That’s fantastic,” he groaned sarcastically.

“Oh I’m very sorry. I don’t mean to be rude,” the girl apologized abashedly.

“Our daughter can be a bit… brazen,” the girl’s dad added.

“Which books?”

“Pardon?”

“Which books am I written in,” Harry asked again.

“Oh, uh…” The girl pinched her brow as she sorted through her mind to find the answer. “Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

“Do you have an eidetic memory,” Draco inquired, thinking of his Uncle Remus.

“Oh I wish,” the girl gushed and Draco actually smiled back at her.

“Well you know Harry’s name, and I’m Draco,” the blonde boy added in introduction. “You are?”

“Hermione. Hermione Granger. And these are my parents, Dr. Joss Granger and Dr. Grace Granger.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Sirius said holding out a hand for the Dr. Grangers to shake. Draco was intensely curious to know what a doctor was. “I’m Sirius Black and these are my sons. We were just waiting for the barrier to open and would you look at that…” Dad said when he looked down at his pocket watch. “10:01.”

Draco grinned broadly. “We’ll be the first on the train!”

“See, now aren’t you glad we showed up ridiculously early like nutters,” his dad remarked ruffling his son’s hair playfully. 

“I think you’re doing this on purpose,” Draco muttered as he smacked his father’s hand away and tried to smooth down his white-blonde locks futilely. His dad just shrugged without a hint of denial. “Why don’t you mess with Harry’s hair?” Father and son looked over at the other wizard in question and burst out laughing.

“Oh ha ha,” Harry grumbled as he self-consciously tried to flatten down his unruly black head of hair. “Stupid genetics.”

“Alright,” Sirius shouted with a clap of his hands. “Who wants first go?” As Draco raised his hand, his dad turned back to the Grangers. “I take it you two are muggles?” At their nod, Sirius continued, “Well, as long as you are escorted by a witch or wizard, you can get on the platform. One of you can go with your daughter, and I’ll go with the other. Draco, here, will show you how it works.” He turned back to his son who smiled proudly. “Remember to take it at sort of a run, kid.”

“Got it.” Draco returned his focus to the pillar with a look of determination on his face. He clutched the bird cage firmly in his grasp, closed his eyes, and sprinted those few steps toward the barrier. When he opened his eyes again he stared in awe at the Hogwarts Express, a beautiful brick-red train that would soon take him to his future life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His wondrous grin fell when he realized he wasn’t the first to arrive on the train platform like he thought. “Susan?”

The auburn-haired girl twisted around and shot him a smile that shined brighter than a lumos. “Draco!”

Draco shook himself out of his dramatic melancholy at finding out he was not the first to arrive and embraced his friend. “How did you get here,” he asked when he pulled back.

“Aunt Amelia has to return to the ministry soon and flooed us here early of course.”

“Of course,” Draco agreed even though he had no idea you could get to the platform using the floo system. Why did he have to go through the barrier then?

“Hey Susan,” Harry piped in coming up behind them. “How did you get here?”

Susan narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Floo,” she answered again.

“You can do that,” Harry asked in wonderment. “Oh yeah, look at that Draco, there are fireplaces over there.”

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he had seen his Uncle Steven do on so many occasions. “Yup, I see that.”

Susan giggled prettily and shook her head at the two brothers. “Come on, I’ll finally introduce you both to Hannah.” The redhead motioned for Draco and Harry to step closer to the train where a pale blonde, though not quite as pale as Draco’s hair, stood with what were presumably her parents and Susan’s aunt. Over his shoulder Draco could see Hermione and her Dad just step through the barrier with expressions of admiration, awe, and a hint of fear. “Guys this is Hannah Abbott. Hannah, meet Harry and Draco.” 

Draco turned his focus to the girl and smiled politely. “Hi,” Hannah greeted a bit shyly, which was probably to be expected, but Draco couldn’t help but think of Hermione’s introduction, full of fire and quick apologies for her brashness.

“Hello,” the boys greeted back.

“So you ready for school,” Harry inquired, making courteous smalltalk.

“I think so…”

Draco tuned out the rest of the conversation, nodding politely and keeping an ear out in case a question was thrown his way. He suddenly wished Daphne were here. She was never one for idle chitchat. Whenever Daphne Greengrass spoke, it was usually something very thought-provoking that left Draco thinking about the futility of life for days afterward. She was brilliant.

“Make it through a’right, Hermione,” Harry asked forcing Draco back to the conversation. Draco turned and smiled at the bushy-haired girl.

“I still can’t believe all this exists and we never knew about it,” Hermione marveled. “I mean, Diagon Alley in the middle of London was one thing, but a whole train platform hidden in King’s Cross? And I read that Hogwarts is completely hidden from muggles. They wouldn’t be able to find it even if they were standing on it’s door step. Isn’t that interesting? It makes me wonder if the castle is really all that big.”

“Oh it is. Trust me.”

Draco whipped around at the familiar voice. “Charlie! What are you doing here?”

“Well, I thought I would be here early enough to surprise you, but somehow you arrived before I did. What, did you all wait outside the platform until exactly ten o’clock?”

“That’s exactly what we did,” Harry replied with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Well, no matter,” Charlie continued, brushing it off easily. “I think my mum’s just happy to arrive on the platform with plenty of time to spare. Back when I went to Hogwarts, Bill, Percy, and I would just barely make it onto the train before it departed.”

That’s when everyone noticed the large family of redheads behind Charlie. Out in front was a smug-looking teenage boy that Draco guessed was Percy. He was the only one already in his school robes and there was a “P” pinned to his breast pocket. Draco knew this meant he was a prefect, but chose to think the “P” stood for Percy for the boy had trouble remembering his name. That made the blonde mentally snicker. Behind Percy was a matronly woman who looked to be in her early forties with a round face that stood in contrast to her stern expression. Behind her, the mother was toting a young girl with red hair that cascaded down her back. The girl, Draco couldn’t remember her name at the moment, seemed nervous but kept laughing at whatever the twins next to her were saying. And next to the twins, was a chubbier redheaded boy who could only be Ron. Charlie had told Draco and Harry a little about his youngest brother as they would all be in the same year.

Everyone introduced themselves and the smalltalk began again. Draco was standing near Charlie and Ron. The former was looking around the platform with poorly disguised interest. Draco sighed.

“My Dad’s over there talking to the Grangers,” the blonde told the older wizard. 

Charlie turned startled blue eyes to focus on Draco’s silver ones. The younger wizard did his best not to laugh aloud. “I— what?”

“Please,” Draco exaggerated with a roll of his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Harry bloody Potter? Unlike him, I actually pay attention, Charlie.”

“Does your Dad know that you know,” Charlie muttered cautiously.

“Probably,” Draco shrugged in answer. “He knows that if I had a problem with it, I’d bring it up and since I haven’t, I must not think there’s a problem.”

“But Harry doesn’t know?”

“Of course Harry knows,” Draco refuted. “I told him. He’s fine with it too. So could you just go find him or something? You only have two hours before you’re to head off to Romania again.”

Charlie snorted and shook his head. “No one should ever underestimate you, Draco. This is why I still haven’t switched you for Harry during our quidditch games even though we continue to lose.”

Draco scoffed in mock betrayal, but then raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but Charlie, maybe I’m not the problem. Perhaps I should switch you for Harry.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Charlie said in dismissal and he sent a wave over his shoulder as he jogged over to Draco’s dad. Draco watched him until he was out of sight and noticed there were quite a few more people on the platform than there were before. A stifled cough returned Draco’s focus back to his other guest.

Ron looked as if he were trying to control his surprise, but the slightly too wide eyes gave it away instantly. “So… Charlie and your…”

“Oh bollocks. Yeah. You didn’t know?”

“No,” Ron answered with narrowed eyes. “Although I suppose I should have. It’s pretty obvious now that I think about it.” Ron shook his head and laughed and Draco laughed with him. “I mean he won’t shut about Sirius Black, but I mostly just tune people out when I think they’re talking politics.”

“Ah,” Draco sniggered. “I see—“  
“Lee!”

Draco and Ron both turned at the noise and they watched the twins tackled a dark-skinned bloke to the ground.

“What are you numpties doing here so early? It’s nearly thirty minutes before the train departs,” this Lee character said, laughing as he gathered up the belongings that fell out of his cart.

“Charlie wanted to snog his boyfriend—“

“But never mind that—“

“Did you bring her?”

“Course,” Lee answered as he pulled a box from his trunk. There were three holes punctured in the top of the box that Draco was sure were for letting air in. Whatever was in the box needed to breathe.

One of the twins lifted up the lid of the box by a hair’s breadth and grinned. “Brilliant.”

“What do you think is in there,” Draco asked when he turn back to Ron.

“Knowing Lee, something horrible. Like a spider.”

Draco shot the redhead an amused eyebrow. “A spider?”

“Yes. Spiders are terrible and should not exist,” Ron replied seriously. “Besides, what else would fit in that box?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a small snake? Or a rat?”

Ron tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Scabbers would probably fit in there.”

“Scabbers?”

And that’s when it happened. Draco Black, heir to the ancient and noble house of Black, was struck with a sudden sense of dread. It clawed at his insides, tearing his stomach apart as it climbed up the lining in it’s pursuit for his brain. Draco could only stare in mild shock as Ron pulled a patchy gray rat from the pocket of his trousers while idly giving an explanation for it’s existence. Draco absently nodded along to the Weasley family story in which Percy Weasley found a rat in the mill outside their house and took him in. He apparently had survived for nearly eight years in their care. Then Percy made prefect and his parents got him an owl as a congratulations gift so Percy decided to pass the rat down to Ron. Now in Draco’s throat, the terrible dread was taking his breath away. Draco tuned out everything around him so the thought could get to his brain quicker. 

What is it, Draco, he asked himself. What’s wrong? Think! Think!

With one final push the knowledge he had been missing penetrated his mind and Draco did his best to squelch the gasp that threatened to escape his lips. He schooled his features and made himself continue nodding politely. The rat might get spooked and escape before Draco could get his dad’s attention.

Behind him, Draco heard Harry and Hermione chatting with Susan’s Aunt about the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hit Wizards, and Aurors. Perhaps I don’t need to flag down my dad, Draco pondered. The head of the DMLE is right there. How do I do this? Will anybody even believe me?

Draco knew that this rat being gripped by the youngest Weasley son was Peter Pettigrew. His dad claimed to have incredible intuition and Draco was certain he had inherited this gift. So based on zero evidence, besides a story about a man who betrayed Harry’s parents and disappeared to live his life as a rat, a story he had last heard when he was seven years old, Draco was still absolutely confident that this rat in front of him was the traitor that aided in the murder of an aunt and uncle he never got to know.

Draco realized his hands were shaking and he forced them into his pockets to hide his anger and nerves from view of anyone, or anything, that might be watching. The blond wizard took a deep breath behind his mask to quell his ever-rising anxiety and shifted slightly to the left to block his brother and Hermione from sight. He continued nodding along to Ron’s story which he hadn’t heard a word of, while desperately thinking of a way to get Miss Bones’ attention. In the interim, Draco noticed the platform filling up quickly with more students and their parents. He should hurry… or perhaps he should wait?

As long as Pettigrew remained unaware of his suspicions, it might be best to wait for a more opportune moment. The traitor was disguising himself as a family pet. Would he really disappear again? With more time, the DMLE could better prepare for his capture. They could even set up a trap without fear of innocent civilians being hexed in case Pettigrew was not willing to concede easily. Just as Draco was seriously considering waiting until they reached Hogwarts and sending his Dad and Miss Bones a letter detailing his assumptions about Ron’s pet, his Dad and Charlie entered Draco’s vision.

“So you knew, did you?”

Draco’s eyes widened at his Dad’s words but thankfully Ron had twisted around at the question so Peter couldn’t have noticed.

“What,” Draco managed.

“Of course I should have known,” Sirius continued, ignoring his son’s discomfort. But Draco was having none of that.

Screw it. I have to tell him now.

Draco shook his right arm and dislodged his wand from its holder. It fell into his palm and he gripped it tightly. He put the tip of the wand to his chin and gave his dad the stare of a lifetime.

“You always were very—“ He watched the recognition of their predetermined signal that something was wrong flit across Sirius’s face before his father continued his sentence as if nothing had happened. “—perceptive. I wouldn’t be surprised if you took over the world some day.”

Draco dropped his wand to his side now that his dad was paying attention and he could tell Sirius Black was discretely looking for the danger. The son looked at Ron’s back and willed his father to notice the direction of his gaze. It was only when he heard his father snarl in pure unadulterated hatred that Draco could breathe again. His dad would fix things. He always did.

Draco heard the conversation die down behind him as they too heard the snarl and Draco stepped backward until his back collided with his brother’s. Draco reached out an arm blindly until he felt Hermione’s arm and pushed her behind him as well. Once he knew everyone was safely shielded behind himself, Mrs. Weasley, and Miss Bones (sans Ron who unfortunately was holding the danger in question) he focused his attention on the scene in front of him. Hopefully Charlie would be able to protect his brother. The man deals with dragons. He should be able to handle a rat.

“Peter,” Sirius growled and Draco knew his father was on the verge of changing into Padfoot.

“Wha— OW! Scabbers?!” The rat must have bit Ron for he dropped the animagus who promptly skittered away, making a hasty retreat toward the barrier that separated platform nine and three-quarters and muggle London.

“Everybody stand back,” Sirius demanded while flicking out his wand like he had been practicing that move every day of his life. Draco took a moment to gape in amazement at his father’s skill before his attention returned to the scampering rodent who was nearly to the barrier. “Stupefy!”

Peter dodged the spell easily and continued on his way. “Petrificus Totalus! Stupefy!” Both spells missed their target by centimeters.

“Homorpho!” Draco watched in amazement as the wider spell hit the rodent which meant it was slowly being transformed back into its human form. However, Sirius was losing ground in his pursuit and father and son both knew that the minute Pettigrew escaped through the barrier, he would transform and disappear once again.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Peter Pettigrew froze where he stood and the crowd of wizards who were protecting their children gasped as one. The paralyzed traitor whose figure was quite unbalanced, tipped suddenly and fell to the floor with a dull thud. Peter’s absence revealed a livid Frank Longbottom, his wand out and steady, his eyes determined and menacing. Draco had known the man his whole life and had never seen this side of him before. So this was what an Auror looked like, in all their glory.

Draco could feel Harry peer over his shoulder and the dark-haired wizard sounded to be on the verge of hyperventilating. The blonde reached behind him and clasped his brother’s forearm in consolation, but it didn’t seem to help. Although he wanted to see what happened next, Draco thought Harry Potter’s well-being was far greater. Draco twisted around and pulled his brother close, hugging him tightly and breathing deeply to let Harry feel the pace his own breaths should take. He noticed his Uncle Remus doing this exact thing for his dad over the summer and it seemed to work.

As Harry’s breathing slowed and returned to normal, Draco let the rest of the world return from the foggy background. Miss Bones was already escorting a magically bound Pettigrew to the chamber of fireplaces at the back of the platform to be flooed to the Ministry. Neville’s dad was quickly hugging his son goodbye so he could join them. Draco tried to find his dad and was surprised he wasn’t a step behind Miss Bones keeping a watchful eye on Pettigrew. Draco turned to his left and startled at the sight of his father’s face so close to his own.

“How you boys doing?” His dad’s gray eyes were watery with worry and they made tears spring to Draco’s own.

“Fine,” Draco answered for the both of them. He still had yet to let go of Harry. Draco swallowed thickly to hold back the tears. Everything that had happened over the last fifteen minutes had finally caught up to him, but he refused to let it show. He was strong. “How are you, Dad?”

Sirius smiled sadly, but nodded his thanks for Draco’s concern. “I’ve been better,” his dad replied truthfully and Draco cocked his head to indicate to his dad that he should join the embrace. Sirius Black obliged easily.

The three family members had no idea how long they stood there in the middle of platform nine and three-quarters letting the world pass them by, and they didn’t care. It wasn’t until Harry spoke up that the three wizards pulled away.

“I can’t believe that just happened.”

Sirius chuckled half-heartedly and looked down at Draco with pride in his eyes. “Good job on the signal, kid. You did right.”

Draco smiled for the first time in what felt like centuries. “Thanks.”

The older wizard groaned and pulled his sons close to him again. “Ugh, I’m gong to miss you both so much.”

“Alright, there’s no need to get sappy on us Sirius,” Harry joked, his voice muffled through his godfather’s shirt. Draco chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

“Alright, I won’t then,” Sirius conceded with a sigh. “You both should get on the train before all the compartments are taken. I think I see Daphne coming through the floo now.

“Speaking of which,” Draco muttered. “Why did we go through the barrier when there are fireplaces here?”

“I do some things just to annoy you,” Sirius answered before ruffling Draco’s hair again. This time, Draco didn’t even mind.

***

“Fred and George told me that we take this sort of test, like fight a troll or the like, when we get sorted,” Ron said after an hour into the train ride, the previous trauma from finding out his rat was, in fact, a traitor and murderer, seemingly forgotten or otherwise shoved behind a wall in his mind to never be acknowledged again. Draco looked over at Harry and knew that he was still recovering from the discovery, but he no longer looked quite so haunted. “But I reckon they’re taking the piss.”

“Of course they are,” Hermione scoffed. Draco, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Daphne were all sharing a compartment while the one to their right had Neville, Susan, Hannah, and a boy named Terry Boot. Unfortunately, compartments could only fit six people at a time, but this division seemed to work for everyone.

“A’right if you’re so smart then, do you know how we get sorted?”

“I read how the sorting works in Hogwarts: A History, actually,” Hermione replied, pulling the book from her shoulder bag to display before handing it to Harry who was looking at it with an expression of genuine interest that only Harry Potter could pull off. “But obviously you don’t read much do you Ronald? And because of that I’m not going to tell you,” Hermione replied primly, ending her statement with a fold of her arms in haughty arrogance that had Draco snorting in amusement.

“Well fine,” Ron countered, his cheeks beginning to color in anger. Draco thought the youngest Weasley boy needed to seriously learn how to calm down and not take so much offense to the words of an eleven-year-old girl. Ron turned to Draco and Harry before muttering, “Bloody hope I don’t end up in the same house as her.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the redhead. Ron was starting to irritate him.

“Well I think it’s pretty likely she’ll be a Ravenclaw,” Daphne sneered, “and since you have zero sense, I doubt you’ll be joining her.”

If these were any other girls, Draco noticed, they would have stood up and left the compartment glaring daggers at Ron’s back like their eyes could shoot fire, but Daphne and Hermione stayed put. Draco smiled at that. This was their compartment and they weren’t leaving because of the inane comments of one immature boy.

“I think I might be in Ravenclaw,” Draco declared with an easy grin.

“Oh really? And what makes you think that, Black,” Daphne bantered. “Do you know how the sorting works?”

“Course,” Draco replied. He grabbed the book from his brother’s hands and flipped to the table of contents. “Let’s see… ah sorting, page 204.” Draco flipped to that page as Hermione tried to reach for the book in outrage, but it was too late. Draco had already read the passage he needed before Granger ripped the book from his hands. “Huh… bit disappointing actually,” Draco quipped, giving Hermione a cocky smirk. “Fighting a troll sounds much more fun.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out which just made Draco smile wider. “That’s a bit childish, Granger, don’t you think?” Hermione huffed in exasperation but Draco could see the mirth behind the disdain.

“I don’t know, Draco,” Harry piped in. “That was a bit more Slytherin than Ravenclaw.”

“Then the best Slytherin, I shall be.”

“You can’t be in Slytherin,” Ron gasped. “You-know-who was in Slytherin.”

Draco and Harry shared a glance before bursting into laughter. Oh, Ron could prove to be quite amusing to Draco as long as his stupidity didn’t go so far as to annoy him.

There was a knock on the compartment door and Draco slid it open to reveal the sweet cart. “Any sweets from the trolly dears,” asked the old woman.

Harry slipped Draco the five galleons from the pocket of his trousers. “You know what I want,” he told Draco. Then his brother turned to the other inhabitants of the compartment. “You guys want anything? My treat.”

Daphne was quick to order some liquorish wands and after a bit, Ron, who seemed to have forgotten the reaction to his earlier outburst about Slytherin house, folded and let Harry buy him a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, which quickly turned into five boxes, one for each person. Hermione had no idea which candies to get, so Draco decided to get a few extra items for her to try: a cauldron cake, an ice mice, and a peppermint toad. He reckoned if she didn’t like them after she tried a bit, he’d be willing to eat the rest. And of course, as always, Draco spent the rest of the galleons on treacle tart for Harry and chocolate frogs for himself, though they were both willing to share with their friends.

“Oh, is this our headmaster,” Hermione asked a few minutes later after a whole fiasco with a rogue chocolate frog. She pulled out the card which read Albus Dumbledore.

“Yeah,” Ron answered around a mouthful of Hermione’s discarded cauldron cake that Draco surrendered over to the redhead who was slowly beginning to grow on the blonde again. “He’s brilliant from what I hear. Greatest Wizard in the country.”

“Dad doesn’t really talk about him much, but he’s Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot,” Draco added while Daphne nodded in confirmation.

“The what?” Hermione honestly looked very confused, possibly the first time Draco had seen that expression on the girls face thus far, which was saying something for a muggle-born student.

“The Wizengamot. It’s like the House of Parliament, whatever that is,” Draco said. “My Uncle Steven told me to explain it that way to muggleborns.”

“It’s like the House of Parliament without the House of Commons,” Daphne explained.

Hermione smiled. “So… basically the House of Lords?”

“Exactly,” Daphne laughed. “In fact, my dad and Draco and Harry’s dad are Lords.”

“Are they really?”

“Oh yes,” Daphne continued. “Very old wizarding families, like the Greengrasses, the Blacks, and the Potters, formed there own social hierarchy over a thousand years ago. Forty-nine Lords or Ladies have seats on the Wizengamot at any given time and if a family loses their social standing or dies out, a new family will be chosen to join the council.”

“So are you Lady Greengrass then,” Hermione asked.

“Oh no, at least not yet,” Daphne answered. “As of right now, my mum is Lady Greengrass and I’m just the heir. Unless my parents or my uncle and aunt have a son, I will continue to be the heir. If I’m still the heir by the time I get married, I could keep my given name or hyphenate it so the Greengrass family can keep their seat on the Wizengamot, but it’s unlikely that I will need to do that as somewhere along the way there will be a male heir.”

Hermione was frowning and Draco had to agree with her sentiment. Who decided men should be the ones to keep their names while women had to change theirs? And why did their children automatically have to take the father’s surname? It was a bit weird if you really thought about it and the discussion he had with Daphne a year ago about this exact thing had lead to another thought-provoking sleepless night in the long list of thought-provoking sleepless nights in his continuing friendship with Daphne Greengrass.

“I’m the Black heir,” Draco added around a bite of another chocolate frog.

“Are you the Potter heir, Harry?” Hermione seemed to love learning anything and everything. She reminded Draco a lot of his Uncle Remus.

“Nah, I’m already a Lord,” Harry answered, and Draco was happy to hear the nonchalance in his brother’s voice. He wasn’t sure how Peter Pettigrew’s reemergence would affect Harry in the long run, but he seemed almost back to normal. Draco was pretty sure the treacle tart helped. It always did. “But I can’t join the Wizengamot until I come of age, so I nominated a proxy in my place until that day. Or forever probably, now that I think about it.

“You’re not going to claim your seat when you turn seventeen,” Ron exclaimed finally joining the conversation. Harry’s lordship must have perked Ron’s interest since Draco remembered the redhead usually tuned out of political conversations. And, Draco noted, Ron most likely was a bit jealous considering the Weasley family had lost their seat on the Wizengamot nearly a century back due to gambling.

“My Aunt ‘Dromeda is doing a great job in my seat and she seems to really enjoy it,” Harry explained. “If I don’t have to go the council meetings, that’s fine by me. I’ll get my education bills passed either way.”

“Education bills?”

And that’s how the train ride to Hogwarts proceeded. Hermione asked questions and the four others would try to answer as accurately as they could while asking the muggleborn about life in the muggle world in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- So I spent a few minutes listing the forty-nine members of my Wizengamot for my notes so I thought I might as well post it in case you guys are interested. Also, I chose the number forty-nine, because that makes the number odd so there will rarely be a tie vote, and because it is 7x7 and we all know seven is the magic number. It would make sense that the original Wizengamot members decided to stop at forty-nine members and that the tradition continued throughout the centuries.
> 
> Sorted by house name first and then who sits in the seat for Wizengamot meetings as well as any relation to Harry Potter character, here are the forty-nine members of the council:
> 
> Abbott— Proxy of Francis, Hannah’s uncle  
> Ambrose— Arlean  
> Avery— Samuel, Adam’s father  
> *Baumgartner— Proxy of Robert  
> Black— Sirius  
> *Bliss— Kevin  
> Bones— Daniel, Amelia’s younger brother  
> Boot— Proxy of Evan, Terry’s great uncle  
> Bullstrode— Roderick, Millicent’s grandfather  
> *Colwell— Neeva  
> Crabbe— Proxy of Gavin, Vincent’s father  
> Crouch— Proxy of Barty Sr.  
> Diggory— Amos, Cedric’s father  
> Doge— Elphias  
> Dumbledore— Proxy of Albus since it is unlawful to be a member and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot at the same time  
> *Egan— Donn  
> Flint— Zachery, Marcus’s Grandfather  
> Fortescue— Proxy of Elton, Alice’s second cousin  
> Fudge— Roscoe, Cornelius’s cousin  
> Goldstein— Joshua, father of Anthony  
> Greengrass— Grayson  
> Goyle— Proxy of Jerald, Gregory’s father  
> *Kohler— Albertha  
> *Lassiter— Garrett  
> Longbottom— (Augusta) Proxy of Frank  
> Macmillan— Ernest Sr., Ernie’s father  
> Malfoy— Lucius  
> Marchbanks— Griselda  
> McKinnin— Martin, nephew of the late Marlene McKinnon  
> McLaggin— Frederic, Cormac’s father  
> Nott— Benjamin, Theodore’s father  
> Ogden— Tiberius, Rosmerta's father  
> Ollivander— Proxy of Genero, Garrick’s nephew  
> Parkinson— Philip, Pansy’s father  
> Potter— (Andromeda) Proxy of Harry  
> Prewett— Proxy of Melvin, Molly’s uncle  
> *Rhoades— Wilford  
> Rosier— Collin, Narcissa’s great uncle  
> Rowle— Thorfin  
> Scamander— Proxy of Brock, son of Newt and uncle of Rolf  
> Selwyn— Proxy of Xavier  
> Shacklebolt— Proxy of Zander, Kingsley’s older brother  
> Shafiq— Proxy of Wesley  
> Slughorn— Proxy of Bryce, Horace’s nephew  
> *Sperry— Christopher  
> Umbridge— Proxy of Clifford, Dolores’s second cousin  
> *Warren— Nelson  
> Yaxley— Corban  
> Zabini— Proxy by Helena (usually), Blaise’s mother
> 
> (*) = Completely made up character with no relation to any other character in the Harry Potter universe. These names will probably will never be mentioned again in the story.
> 
> Also, at the beginning of my story, the following families were part of the Wizengamot but were outed as death eaters at the end of the first wizarding war. Since they were unable to provide an heir that might redeem their previous social standing by the Wizengamot officials, these houses were expunged from the Wizengamot and replaced by new houses:
> 
> Travers— Replaced by the McKinnon family  
> Lestrange— Replaced by the Warren family
> 
> More Fancasts:
> 
> Hermione Granger- Antonia Thomas  
> Hannah Abbott- Emma Roberts  
> Terry Boot- Dylan O’Brien
> 
> ***
> 
> A/N-2- Also, I just wanted to thank all the people who are enjoying my story. Draco Sirius Black has reached over 10,000 views and has over 200 followers. This is incredible and I hope you all continue to read and review. Thanks so much.


	10. 1:10- Sort Draco

“I can’t believe you lost Trevor already. You would lose your head if it weren’t attached to your body, Longbottom,” Draco joked. 

Neville pulled the blonde into a headlock as they exited the train. “You should remember that I’m taller than you.”

“Your confidence in your three centimeters of height difference is cute, Nev,” Draco choked out and Neville released him with a laugh.

“I just hope he’s alright,” Neville admitted with a sigh. “My parents trusted me enough to actually get me a pet, and I bollocksed it up already.”

“You’ll find him,” Harry assured him. “Toads are smart animals.”

“That’s true,” Hermione remarked. “Their intelligence tends to be overlooked when compared to owls or cats, but according to my research, toads will always be found again by their owner when they least expect it and usually in the presence of something else they might have been looking for.”

Neville smiled politely at the girl while Draco pondered this. “So you’re saying when Nev finds Trevor, the toad will probably be sitting on that wizard chess set Neville misplaced when we were five?”

Draco meant it as a joke, but Hermione replied with a shrug. “I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“Huh,” Draco mused aloud. “That’s actually pretty sweet.”

“Firs’ years, this way! Firs’ years, over here!”

The group of first years looked up at the shouting to find a large man, at least three times as tall as Neville and four times as wide, with a long scraggly beard and beady brown eyes. He was motioning the younger students toward a nearby dock with a wave of his massive arm. With mild trepidation the first years headed toward the giant of a man.

“What’s going on,” Terry asked.

“The first years take boats across the lake in order to get to Hogwarts,” Hermione answered. “I read it in—“

“Hogwarts: A History,” Harry, Draco, and Ron finished for her.

“Well… yes,” Hermione confirmed. Although her hands were on her hips in contempt, her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

“Come on, Hermione,” Daphne said, wrapping an arm around the bushy-haired girl’s elbow in a show of solidarity. “You can take a boat with me and Neville. Let’s go Longbottom.”

“See you at the castle,” Neville called over his shoulder as he followed the girls to the dock.

A few minutes later, sharing a boat with Harry and Ron, Draco watched with wide eyes as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came into view. There was only one word that Draco could think of to describe the sight: magical.

He made it. It finally struck him in that moment that he, Draco Sirius Black, was going to attend Hogwarts. He’d heard the stories from his father and his Uncle Remus. From Charlie and Grayson Greengrass. They talked of fun and learning and adventure. And now it was his turn. His and Harry’s and Neville’s and Daphne’s and Susan’s and Ron’s and Hermione’s and all the other friends he had yet to make. Draco couldn’t wait.

Which was why it felt like ages before the boat finally made it to shore.

All the first years followed the stern-faced older woman who met them at the other dock as she lead through the halls of Hogwarts, some bumping into others as they became distracted by every single corner of the castle their gaze landed on.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said the elderly professor in a deep Scottish brogue once she had everyone halted outside the large doors to what Draco guessed was the Great Hall. “I’m Professor McGonagall. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smart yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

And quietly they did. In fact, the group of eleven-year-olds were so silent, one might be able to hear a pin drop. Draco wanted desperately to break the tension, but he was suddenly too nervous to say a word. It seemed that was how everyone else was feeling as well.

The witch returned a few minutes later and the thickness in the air lessened considerably which Draco was grateful for. Soon they would be sorted and these annoying nerves would dissipate. Draco wished the ceremony would hurry up and start already.

“Follow me.” The 1991 first year class tentatively plodded behind their future professor through the tall double doors. Draco didn’t now how it was possible, but the interior of the Great Hall looked even more magical than the exterior of the castle. There were thousands of candles floating gently around the room and above that the ceiling seemed to have disappeared to show the brilliant night sky.

“Its not actually the stars. Its only bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in…” Hermione cleared her throat to cover up her sudden embarrassment.

Draco grinned at her flushed cheeks and put an arm around her shoulder, just barely avoiding a face full of curly brown locks. “I’m going to have to borrow that book sometime.”

Hermione looked up at him and smiled shyly. “Alright.”

Somehow that little bit of interaction deterred Draco’s anxiety and he almost cheered with glee. The blonde gave Hermione’s shoulder one last squeeze before he released her and took a closer look around the room. There were four long tables that stretched nearly from end to end. Above each banquet table was a different banner. From the far left to the far right Draco deciphered each house; the green and silver snake of Slytherin, the blue and bronze eagle of Ravenclaw, the yellow and black badger of Hufflepuff, and the scarlet and gold lion of Gryffindor. All the older students were watching the newcomers with interest. Draco recognized the three older Weasley brothers who were all seated at the table to the far right, the same table where his dad once sat for seven years.

As his eyes continued wandering they settled on a familiar set of green eyes behind a wall of glass. Harry was grinning stupidly and Draco joined him in producing that expression, as if they were communicating, upon spoken agreement, “This is mad.”

Their twin expressions turned wide-eyed with surprise as the sorting hat Draco noted earlier which sat upon a stool in front of the staff table suddenly turned sentient and began singing:

Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The older students all burst into applause while the first years were a little more hesitant. Draco was certain most of them were wondering how putting on a hat helped them get sorted and when his gaze returned to Harry, his suspicions were confirmed. His brother raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “That’s it?” Draco nodded.

“Abbott, Hannah.” As Hannah stepped up to be sorted Draco and Harry were still having their silent conversation.

“That is disappointing, actually,” Harry continued.

“I know. It’s no wonder dad wouldn’t tell us. It’s embarrassing.”

“Do you think Ilvermorny does the same thing?”

“We’ll have to ask Uncle Steven.”

“I hope he had to fight a troll.”

Draco rolled his eyes and clapped with everyone else as the hat called out, “Hufflepuff!” Well, almost everyone. The entire left-side table, the one Draco knew to belong to Slytherin, was silent. Draco narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

“Black, Draco.”

Draco blinked and hesitated. Sometimes it truly was a curse to have a surname so close to the start of the alphabet. The world around him became fuzzy as his nerves resurfaced. A hand on his bicep snapped him out of it and he looked at Hermione gratefully. “Thanks, Granger,” he whispered before taking a deep breath and making his way to the front of the room. As he neared, he got a closer look at the staff. None were familiar to him except Dumbledore so he quickly returned his attention to the stool. Once seated, McGonagall placed the sorting hat upon his head.

“I apologize for messing up your hair child.”

Draco flushed. “I’m sorry that was my first thought. I’m a bit nervous.”

“There is no need to be nervous. Now where to place you… Hmm… no suggestions?”

“I want to be placed wherever is best.”

“Ah… I see you were disappointed with the actions of the house you wanted.”

“Yes. They did not clap for Hannah’s sorting. I’m not sure I want to be a member of a house that does such a thing. What if I become like them?”

“Well perhaps instead of becoming like them, you might persuade them to become like you. Let me tell you a story. As Godric Gryffindor’s hat, for almost a thousand years, I’ve sorted many students. Somewhere along the way, the views of my old friend Salazar have been warped beyond recognition. I fear it gets worse every century.”

“You mean like Voldemort?”

“Perhaps, child, but I was thinking more about the poor souls who joined him because of a cause that was never meant to exist. I dread to think how Salazar would take the sight of his house these days.”

Draco paused. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you have the personality of a true Slytherin. I see you are very cunning and have ambitions for a better future. I wanted you to know that Slytherin was never meant to breed prejudice and hate. Salazar was a decent man who only feared that the admittance of muggleborns would be far too risky, for the more muggles who knew of our existence, the more danger in which wizardkind would be. I tell you all this for I knew you would listen.”

Draco’s mind boggled at the information this hat had just given him, but he had to admit he had at least expected such things. Ever since his father told Draco about the house of green and silver, the blonde was certain Slytherin was where he belonged, despite it’s horrid reputation. “So I’m to be a Slytherin, then?”

“As long as you can handle the pressure from your peers and remain true to who you are, Draco.”

“I can.”

“I know that. I can see it…”

“Slytherin!”

The hat was lifted off his head and he made his way over to the clapping Slytherin table with a new sense of determination. That tenacity grew tenfold as he took a seat and heard McGonagall call the next student. “Bones, Susan.” Draco knew his friend would never be sorted into Slytherin. She had ambitions, as everyone does, but she lacked the deceptive nature to get her to where she wanted to be. Susan Bones was one to work hard to achieve her goals and therefore would almost assuredly be sorted into Hufflepuff. Draco was resolved to clap for her no matter which house she ended up in, just as he would clap for every person sorted here today, his new housemates be damned.

“Hufflepuff!”

Draco grinned at his excellent guesswork and applauded his friend as she headed to sit next to Hannah at the Hufflepuff table. He could feel the glaring pairs of eyes on the back of his head and decided to ignore them… for now.

Draco continued his applause for four Ravenclaws (Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Corner, and Anthony Goldstein), two Gryffindors (Seamus Finnigan and a pretty brunette named Lavender Brown), and three more Hufflepuffs (Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwistle, and Justin Finch-Fletchley) while still ignoring the Slytherin glares around him including from the house’s newest members (Millicent Bullstrode, Tracey Davis, and two large oafs by the names of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle).

“Granger, Hermione.” Draco sat up a bit straighter in his chair while the students around him slouched defeatedly for they did not recognize Granger as a Pureblood family name so they found it highly doubtful she would be sorted into Slytherin. Therefore, they would not clap. Draco, however, was very curious about the girl’s placement.

From the way she read incessantly and rattled off facts like they might otherwise be stuck in her brain forever, most would assume she was tailor-made for Ravenclaw. But Draco couldn’t help but think of Hermione Granger in comparison to people like Terry Boot. Terry had his whole life set up for him. Both of his parents were healers and he’d always planned to join them at St. Mungo’s after his schooling was complete. It looked to Draco like Terry was attending Hogwarts just to gain knowledge in his field of study and earn O’s in all of his NEWTS. The hat called out Ravenclaw almost the second it was set on Terry Boot’s head. So when Hermione’s sorting lasted a bit longer, Draco took that as a good sign. Perhaps Draco was mistaken, but Hermione seemed like she wanted more than good OWL scores and her dream job at the ministry. If the hat sorted her into Ravenclaw, Draco had no doubt that would be her life. She’d make friends with Mandy Brocklehurst and date Anthony Goldstein. Her life would be predetermined the minute she sat at that table under the blue and bronze banner. Draco wanted more for her. She should dream bigger.

There were whispers behind him and Draco twisted around for the first time since he took a seat at the table. The girl next to him was scowling as the boy next to her whispered something in her ear that Draco couldn’t hear. She grunted in annoyance as the boy sat back and Draco raised a brow in question as the girl’s attention turned to him. “Don’t clap this time,” she dictated curtly and Draco couldn’t keep the grin off his face. They finally folded. How delightful.

Draco returned his attention to the bushy-haired girl who still wore the sorting hat. When that hat suddenly called, “Gryffindor!” Draco did the only thing he thought that decision warranted. He shot up from the bench and applauded with everything he had. Of course few really noticed as most of the eyes were on the boisterous Gryffindor table on the other side of the Great Hall. However, his fellow Slytherins noticed. As Granger took her seat, so did Draco and he turned in his seat to face the older snakes with a proud smirk on his lips and a challenge in his storm cloud eyes. The girl from earlier got up from her seat with a huff and moved to one further back, but Draco paid her no mind. His attention was on the bloke who was sitting across from him and a few seats back. Draco didn’t let the obvious troll blood this bloke had in his genetics affect the outcome of their staring contest. Draco Black would not be intimidated even by a man three years older than him, and the blonde’s smirk grew when the boy turned away first with a sneer of palpable disapproval.

“Slytherin!”

Draco clapped along with everyone else as Daphne Greengrass stepped down from the stool with a demur smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. His friend bypassed the other first years and made her way to the empty spot next to Draco that the ugly girl had just vacated.

“Having fun,” Daphne asked. Draco snorted in amusement and when Daphne smiled this time, her eyes lit up with mirth. She shook her head as both blondes completely ignored the people around them. “What are you doing Draco?”

“Making enemies.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Big word for such a young lady.”

“Perhaps I should have been a Ravenclaw.”

“Nah,” Draco dismissed easily. “I have a feeling you’ll find Slytherin to be far more enjoyable.”

Daphne and Draco looked around at the students who were sure to provide them with seven years of entertainment. One thing was for certain; Draco would never be bored in this house. Three more Ravenclaws were sorted (Wayne Hopkins, Megan Jones, and Sue Li) and then it was Neville’s turn. He was sorted into Gryffindor and Draco was pleased to note that he and Daphne weren’t the only Slytherins clapping this time, however hesitant their applause was. Draco couldn’t help but feel proud. It had been maybe fifteen minutes and already he was changing things. The hat was right.

Two more Ravenclaws (Roger Malone and Lilly Moon) were quickly followed by two Slytherins (Theordore Nott and Pansy Parkinson), the latter of which proceeded to park herself right next to Draco on the opposite side of Daphne.

“I think what you’re doing is hilarious, by the way,” Pansy whispered, her eyes bright with mischief and her lips pulled up in an almost predatory grin. Draco decided to dislike her instantly.

“And what is it that I’m doing, exactly?”

“Clapping for those freaks. Obviously its all a big joke and I wanted to let you know that, unlike the rest of these snakes, I get it.”

Draco kept his expression as blank as possible for fear of throttling the girl in front of him. He could hear Daphne give a soft snort of disbelief behind him and Draco clenched his jaw tightly to keep from laughing and telling Pansy the truth. There were far more entertaining ways to get this pug-nosed girl away from him. He just had to wait for the right opportunity.

As the Patil twins were sorted into separate houses, one to Ravenclaw and the other to Gryffindor, and a small girl with mousy brown hair named Sally-Anne was placed into Hufflepuff, Draco waited for his moment to strike. Pansy had clapped along with Daphne and him for the three girls with such exaggerated mockery it set Draco’s teeth on edge. He could tell Daphne was getting ready to pounce so Draco had to act fast.

“Potter, Harry.”

The Great Hall quieted at once. Apparently some still had yet to hear that the great Harry Potter would be attending school with them this year. Draco beamed up at his god brother who made his way to the stool without even a flinch at the silence. As soon as the hat was placed on his head, the tables erupted into excited murmurs. Pansy turned around in her seat with wide eyes and a disgusted scowl upon her lips. “He better not be sorted into Slytherin. Could you imagine?”

Actually, Draco could imagine. He and Harry did everything together. For ten years they had been inseparable, as close as identical twins. Draco knew it was unlikely Harry would be sorted into the same house as him. The dark-haired wizard had Slytherin tendencies, but his morals were always priority number one. The fact that Draco knew this did not stop the blonde from hoping for that hat to shout out a resounding, “Slytherin!”

“…defeated the Dark Lord, for Merlin’s sake. He would roll over in his grave if Potter were sorted into His house—“

“Gryffindor!”

Draco let his eyelids fall shut as the knowledge that he would not be sharing a common room with his best friend washed over him. Pansy was nattering on about how obvious that decision was, but Draco barely heard it. There was a hand on his shoulder and Draco twisted around to find the sympathetic blue eyes of Daphne Greengrass.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t clapped. Draco rose from his seat immediately and cupped his hands around his mouth so the sound of his voice would reach his brother. “Harry!”

Emerald met silver from across the Hall. Harry looked a mix between sad and proud, an expression that mirrored Draco’s so precisely.

“Yeah?!”

Draco paused. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say really. He knew how much this meant to Harry. To be sorted into the house where his parents met and argued and fell in love. To walk the same corridor to Gryffindor tower that Sirius and Remus did. Gryffindor was where Harry Potter was meant to be. “Oh, uh… nothing I suppose! Just thought I’d shout your name and embarrass myself!”

Harry laughed. “Well, job well done!”

“You’re a git!”

“Prat!”

As they both took their seats, Draco could just make out Harry’s smile from across the hall. So, they weren’t in the same house. That didn’t really matter. Their name calling would just have to be a little louder.

“Rivers, Oliver.”

Draco looked up to come face to face with a confused Pansy Parkinson. “Wha— What just…”

Draco shook his head. He was tired of Pansy. It was time to get rid of her. “You should really pick up a Daily Prophet once and a while. Harry Potter is my brother.”

Some older girls across from him overheard that statement and soon there was a tittering of noise around the Slytherin table. By the time Oliver Rivers, Sophie Roper, and Lisa Turpin became Hufflepuffs, and Georgina Smith, Dean Thomas, and Ronald Weasley became Gryffindors, every Hogwarts student wearing green and silver knew Draco Black and Harry Potter were brothers. Draco was mostly just surprised none of them seemed to know that already. Perhaps none of these snakes could possibly comprehend that the Draco Black they read about in the papers, Sirius Black’s son and Harry Potter’s God brother, was the same Draco Black that just got sorted into Slytherin. Now that this was a fact, perhaps his fellow Slytherins did not think he belonged in the house of Salazar.

But Draco was born to be a Slytherin. The sorting hat did not lie. And he would prove it if it was the last thing he did.

***

Sirius marched up the staircase of his home and collapsed onto his bed with exhaustion.

Seven hours. It took them seven hours to process Peter Pettigrew. The rat was currently shackled and warded in a cell under the ministry awaiting his trial set a week from today. Sirius had no doubt Peter would be found guilty, but that did not stop the wizard from fearing the traitor might escape once again in the interim. It took half a dozen Aurors and Amelia Bones herself to keep watch over Peter’s cell before Sirius was convinced that he did not need to guard the rat himself.

There was the sound of the front door opening and then closing downstairs but Sirius was far too fatigued to move from the comfort of his soft sheets and fluffy pillows. There was only one person it could be anyway.

“Padfoot.” Remus appeared in the doorway of his bedroom looking almost as tired as he was. Sirius assumed all of wizarding Britain must have heard about Wormtail’s capture by now.

“Moony,” Sirius replied. He rolled a bit to his left and motioned with a heavy arm for his friend to join him. The werewolf didn’t hesitate.

There was a bout of silence as the marauders just stared at each other from opposite sides of Sirius’s king-sized bed. Then Remus laughed. “Do you remember the last time we shared a bed?”

Sirius let a smile grace his lips as the memory swirled around in his mind like a warm fire. “Seventh year. James a Lily wouldn’t stop arguing in the common room. When I got to our dorm, you were reading in a silence bubble and I was too lazy to create my own.”

“So you joined me and I read you that book until you fell asleep. You were like a little child.”

Sirius chuckled lightly at the comparison. “Yeah, I suppose I was. What was that book anyway?”

“Lord of the Rings. Lily had just gotten me the trilogy for Christmas.”

“That’s right,” Sirius mused. “She got me Alice in Wonderland. I read it five times that winter holiday. It had been the best gift anyone had ever given m—“ He choked on an unexpected sob and willed for the tears in his eyes to subside. He didn’t want to cry right now… or ever. Remus inched closer and Sirius could see the scars from his childhood attack clear as day on his friend’s face. He reached up a hand and traced the dull red lines with a hesitant finger. Moony let him. “It’s not fair,” he whispered.

“No,” Remus agreed. “It’s not.”

The sound of the floo in the study had both men sitting up and heading to answer it. There could only be one face in the flames.

“Hey Sev,” Sirius greeted as he flopped down into the plush love seat that was the pride and joy of his favorite room. “How went the sorting?” Sirius pretended he didn’t see the silent exchange between Remus and Severus in which the latter asked if they were doing alright and the former nodded in the affirmative before tilting his head to ask in return. It was hard to tell, what with Snape being a disembodied head and all, but Sirius could have sworn the man had shrugged his shoulders in response. For Severus Snape a shrug of the shoulders always meant, “Not now, but I’ll get there.” Sirius knew the feeling well. “Did I win or what?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “No, Black, you did not. Lupin was only one off.”

Remus grinned. “So no Ravenclaws then. I wondered, but I thought for certain Daphne would take more after her father than her mother. But at least this means Draco has a friend in Slytherin.”

Sirius raised a brow at Severus who nodded in confirmation. “You are a strange one Moony,” Sirius told the werewolf. “Sometimes you baffle me with the way your mind works. So, Draco and Daphne are Slytherins? How’d that go?”

Snape quirked an almost evil grin. “Brilliantly. I’ll keep an eye on Draco, but so far he looks like he can handle the older Slytherins just fine on his own. And with Daphne by his side, I have a feeling those two first years will be ruling the dungeons by month’s end.”

“And Harry,” Remus asked.

“I think both boys were disappointed they wouldn’t be in the same house as each other, but have recognized that they’re where they belong. And Harry should have no problems since he’ll have Longbottom and the youngest Weasley boy as dorm mates.”

Sirius nodded as if reassuring himself that his sons would be ok. He was certainly proud of them both. “So, you ready to teach them potions, Professor Snape?”

“Not particularly,” Severus muttered. “There are a few new Slytherins that most likely have Death Eater parents, so I’m afraid I’ll have to hide my affection for the boys if I want to keep up my disguise as a trusted Death Eater myself. Thankfully, if I let something slip I can always blame it on Dumbledore’s orders to play nice. I’m actually hoping Draco can work miracles. If he can change the minds of his fellow Slytherins, I won’t have to act like a bastard quite so much.”

“Act?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Go to bed, Sirius.”

“Gladly. I’ll talk to you tomorrow Sev. Watch over my kids.”

“Gladly.” With that, Severus Snape disappeared from the fireplace and the marauders were left alone once again.

“Read to me,” Sirius suggested, giving Moony his best puppy dog eyes.

Remus looked up from the fireplace and stared into those stormy gray irises. “Sure.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sirius laid curled up on the left side of his bed staring at Charlie’s watch as Remus nattered on about hobbits and dwarves and dragons. Sirius had to admit he found The Hobbit much more enjoyable than the original trilogy.

Both hands on the clock still pointed at “School”. Although Sirius’s eyes were drooping after the long day, he refused to close them until the yellow and black hands were both pointed at “Bed”.

And thus, this became Padfoot’s and Moony’s routine for the foreseeable future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Here is the list of the 37 students in Harry and Draco's year at Hogwarts and the houses they were sorted into:
> 
> Ravenclaw:  
> Terry Boot...Mandy Brocklehurst  
> Michael Corner...Megan Jones  
> Anthony Goldstein...Sue Li  
> Wayne Hopkins...Lilly Moon  
> Roger Malone...Padma Patil
> 
> Slytherin:  
> Draco Black...Millicent Bulstrode  
> Vincent Crabbe...Tracey Davis  
> Gregory Goyle...Daphne Greengrass  
> Theodore Nott...Pansy Parkinson
> 
> Gryffindor:  
> Seamus Finnigan...Lavender Brown  
> Neville Longbottom...Hermione Granger  
> Harry Potter...Parvati Patil  
> Dean Thomas...Georgina Smith  
> Ron Weasley
> 
> Hufflepuff:  
> Stephen Cornfoot...Hannah Abbott  
> Kevin Entwistle...Susan Bones  
> Justin Finch-Fletchley...Isobel MacDougal  
> Ernie Macmillan...Sophie Roper  
> Oliver Rivers...Lisa Turpin
> 
> So yeah, all five involved in the bet were sorted into the same houses as they were in the original series. I think it makes for the most interesting dynamic. And I'm sorry I didn't make Harry a Slytherin. Where to place Harry was my hardest decision. I certainly enjoy reading a good Slytherin Harry Potter fanfiction, but that's mostly because I like a Draco/Harry bromance. In this, they are already brothers, so there was really no need to force them together. In fact, I figured it would be more interesting to see how they'd act now that they no longer lived together. So Harry is a Gryffindor once again. I hope that's not a problem.
> 
> Overall, there are very few differences to the original series as far as the sorting went. There is a certain character missing from the list above, but I have my reasons for that.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. You'll finally be reading from Harry's POV in the next one.
> 
> More Fancasts:
> 
> Pansy Parkinson- Sarah Hyland  
> Lavender Brown- Chloe Grace Moretz


	11. 1:11- My Brother, Draco

Harry’s eyelids fluttered open and he smiled at his blurry surroundings, the red and gold of his new home the only thing he could make out. He flipped over onto his stomach and reached for his glasses on the bedside table.

“Morning Harry, we was just about to wake ya’.”

Harry put on his glasses and the face of Seamus Finnigan came into focus. Harry stretched. “Morning… what time is it?”

“8:00. Breakfast started an hour ago,” Neville told him as he buttoned up the standard white collared shirt of their uniform. “We should be getting our schedules today.”

“Alright. Give me a sec.” Harry rolled out of bed with a yawn. The five boys stayed up far too late last night getting to know one another better. Frankly, Harry thought it was worth it. He couldn’t really ask for a better first night at Hogwarts. Well, maybe one more thing would have made it perfect, but Harry’d see him soon enough. Ten years was more than enough time to room with Draco… right?

Perhaps I should have asked the sorting hat to place me in Sly— No Harry! he scolded himself. You can’t think like that. Sometimes, things are just the way they should be.

“Ugh. I think I left my comb,” Harry groaned as he filtered through his trunk.

Neville grinned. “Nothing can help that hair anyway, but you can borrow mine.”

Neville’s toss veered way off course, but Harry accounted for his friend’s terrible athleticism and snatched the comb out of the air with a quick swipe of his arm. “Thanks.”

Dean stepped through the door of their dormitory. He was a bit quieter than the rest, and Harry liked him instantly, for he himself wasn’t much of a talker. Dean and him bonded quickly with shared looks of amusement at the others’ boisterous personalities. “Most of the older years have already left for breakfast, but I convinced the first year girls to wait for us.”

Harry nodded and walked into the bathroom, two minutes later emerging fully clothed and with freshly brushed teeth. Neville was right of course. There wasn’t much he could do to fix his hair. “All good.”

The five boys headed down the stairs into the common room where the four first year girls were indeed waiting for them. Harry quickly realized Hermione was the odd one out. Her three dorm mates who Harry could not remember the names of to save his bloody life were all giggling excitedly and gossiping with each other on the sofa while Hermione was seated in the adjacent armchair reading a book. Harry lowered his head to catch the title. “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” he asked.

Hermione looked up from her book. “Oh, hi Harry. Yes. It’s rather enjoyable.”

“One of my favorites,” Harry admitted. “I still can’t believe its one of our school books.”

Hermione slipped a bookmark between the pages to mark where she left off and stood up to join him. “You’ve read it,” she asked, hugging the book to her chest.

“Sure, loads of times,” Harry answered and motioned for her to walk with him. They exited the dormitory through the fat lady’s portrait. “My dad kept all his old textbooks from his days at Hogwarts, but that’s the only one that interested me. The section on dragons is my favorite. I used to be jealous of Draco, because, you know, his name means “dragon” in some language or something—“ Harry paused in his descent down the stairs and looked down at Hermione who had stopped with him.

“Something wrong?”

“What? No, nothing…” It had just struck Harry how easy it was to talk to Hermione Granger. He caught up to her and they continued their walk to the Great Hall, Neville and Ron stepping up behind them.

“I can’t wait for classes to start,” Neville stated excitedly.

“You’re mental,” Ron sputtered. “I’d much rather just continue to explore this castle. All my brothers say the classes are the worst part about Hogwarts.”

“That’s not true,” Harry interrupted. “Charlie said he loved the schoolwork and learning.”

“Yeah, well Charlie’s different. He knew he wanted to be a dragonologist since he was born, basically. And still, he claimed the amount of homework he received was too much. I am definitely not looking forward to that.”

“I doubt we’ll have a lot of homework during our first year,” Hermione spoke up. “Fifth year though… From what I read the OWLS are extremely difficult.”

“I think any amount of homework will be too much for me,” Ron joked. Or at least Harry hoped he was joking. From the redhead’s nervous expression that didn’t seem likely.

“I can make us all a study timetable if you guys want, so we can keep on track,” Hermione offered. “That’s what I used to do in primary.”

“Sounds awful,” Ron muttered under his breath, but everyone heard him. Hermione looked slightly hurt by his comment but she soon let it go as the doors to the Great Hall came into view.

The four of them sat at the Gryffindor table and ate breakfast quickly, but Harry was sure everyone could tell how anxious he was to go over to visit with Draco. Bar the occasional arguments over the years, last night had been the first time the two brothers hadn’t seen each other before going to sleep. They didn’t even get to say good night.

Harry tapped his foot impatiently as he craned his neck to get a glimpse of that white head of hair. Draco had his back turned to him, but even from behind, Harry could tell that his brother was smiling as he talked animatedly with Daphne across from him. Suddenly, a dark haired man, who Harry guessed was one of the professors at the school, walked behind Draco and obstructed Harry’s view. The man seemed to be handing all the Slytherins their schedules and Harry quickly looked around for his own head of house. Professor McGonagall was at the opposite end of the table, most likely getting the older students with earlier classes their schedules first. Harry sighed.

“Harry,” Neville groaned. Harry looked up at his friend questioningly and Neville motioned to the table with his eyes. “Stop that tapping, would you? You’re driving me mad.”

Harry laughed. “I should never have taught you that phrase. You don’t even know what driving means.”

“Not true. It’s how muggles travel in those metal machines. So there,” Neville replied promptly before shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

“Good. This is good,” Harry muttered, resuming the tapping of his foot under the table. “Keep distracting me Nev.”

Neville kicked him in the shin, hard. “Only if you stop that bloody tapping.”

Harry looked over to check his professor’s progress and groaned. “Anything to keep me in this seat while we wait for McGonagall.”

“Did you write a letter to your dad yet?”

“I was going to do it tonight, because I wanted to include what I thought about my first few classes. You?”

“Nah. Mum and Dad told me to wait until the weekend to write home,” Neville said. “We kind of made that our pact. We would only send and receive letters on the weekends so on weekdays I can focus on schoolwork.”

“Your parents know you too well, Nev. What about you, Hermione?”

“Er… honestly, I’m a little nervous to do it. I’ve never used owl post before.”

“Oh, of course,” Harry said. “If you want, I can show you how it works tonight after dinner.”

“Really? That would be brilliant, Harry. Thank you so much.”

“Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom…” The four eleven-year-olds glanced up to face their head of house. “You’re schedules.”

Harry tried his best to not yank his schedule from the old witch’s hands in his haste, but was positive that he failed. Thankfully McGonagall quickly moved on, looking no more stern than usual.

“Great.” Harry shot up from the table but upon turning around he smacked right into another Gryffindor, and his call for Neville, Hermione, and Ron to join him were cut off when the air rushed out of him.

“Sorry Harry,” said the kid quickly. “I didn’t know you were going to do that. I was just coming over to introduce myself. McLaggen. Cormac McLaggen.”

Harry blinked as he tried to recover from the sudden introduction in the wake of literally running into the bloke. “Er… nice to meet you,” Harry replied and shook the boy’s proffered hand. “Harry Potter.”

Cormac grinned, but it came off more like a smirk. There was something off about the sandy blond-haired boy. “I already knew that of course. My father was one of the Wizengamot members who voted for your education bill.”

“Oh well thank—“

“Listen, Harry,” McLaggen cut in, and Harry tried his best to reign in the offense he felt at being interrupted. “You’re new here, so I thought I would let you know that you could come to me with any questions you might have. If you need help finding the library, lets say. I’m your man.”

“Uh thanks… Cordan, was it,” Harry asked, losing his battle to keep cool, but trying his best to seem genuine with the incorrect name. This was a trick Draco and Harry had learned pretty early on. If you don’t remember someone’s name they tend to stop trying to make contact with you. The brothers had to use this on overzealous fans quite a bit. It was demeaning, which was exactly the point.

The smirk dipped a little. “Cormac,” he corrected.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you know. If you’ll excuse me,” Harry said, trying to step around Cormac which was proving quite difficult.

“Where are you going? I can show you the way if you need help.”

Harry blinked. Who was this guy again? Some heir to a noble house, Harry guessed, but Harry was never one to let titles excuse annoying behavior. “I was just headed over there,” Harry said, pointing to the table at the opposite end of the hall. “I think I can find my way, but thank you.”

“Ravenclaw? I have a few mates from that house. I’ll come with.” Cormac turned around without a second glance as if Harry was just supposed to follow him unquestioningly.

But Harry was struck dumb by the audacity of this Gryffindor, who couldn’t be much older than Harry and remained where he stood. He turned his bespectacled gaze to his friends who were all staring after the blonde with open mouths. Harry shook himself out of his bemused stupor as McLaggen finally realized he wasn’t escorting the Harry Potter to the table of the blue and bronze eagle. “Something wrong,” McLaggen asked when he was nearly standing in front of Harry once more.

Harry cocked his head to the side and licked his lips thoughtfully. He’d give this boy another chance to prove he wasn’t a total arsewipe. “Well actually, I wasn’t going to Ravenclaw. I was going to Slytherin.”

“Oh, you had mates in Slytherin? Tough luck.”

Ok, that was the last straw and Harry let a sickly sweet smile grace his lips as he mentally cracked his knuckles and readied himself for what was sure to come next. “What is that supposed to mean?” He saw Neville flinch out of the corner of his eye and even Hermione and Ron, who had known Harry for all of a day, looked a bit nervous at his tone. Cormac seemed to be the only one who didn’t hear the biting edge in Harry’s voice

“Well, it’s just, you obviously don’t know because you’re new and all, but everyone in Slytherin is evil.”

Harry pursed his lips and something about his hostile posture must have grabbed the attention of some of the other Gryffindors. Ron’s older brothers, Fred and George, looked especially interested to see what Harry was going to do next, and Harry was happy to oblige.

“So… let me get this straight,” Harry said, stepping up closer to the slightly taller boy, embracing his inner prat and giving a giant smirk. “You think Dumbledore just lets a whole house of evil children run around his school? That there are seventy-five evil students eating breakfast a few tables away from us? Because why?” Harry paused briefly and let his smirk grow predatory before continuing. “Because ten years ago a bunch of them decided to follow Voldemort?”

Cormac’s eyes grew wide as saucers at the name and Harry had to stop himself from laughing. There were a few gasps from those listening in, and Harry could tell that the rest of the table was growing quieter with each passing second.

“I know. I said his name. How taboo of me,” Harry mocked and at the look of confusion on McLaggen’s face, Harry explained, “Oh, sorry, Taboo means prohibited, forbidden, unspeakable.” He couldn’t tell but he was pretty sure Hermione snickered at that. Harry stepped even closer to Cormac and stared menacingly into those hazel eyes. “You would be right of course. There were a lot of students from Slytherin who followed that madman… from what I hear anyway. I was a year old when he died. But surely that doesn’t make the whole house evil. I’m positive that doesn’t make my brother evil. He doesn’t just change who he is because the sorting hat shouts Slytherin and he starts wearing a bit more green and silver.”

“Har—“

“I’m not finished,” Harry interrupted quickly, and now he was very aware that nearly half of Gryffindor was listening to him. “You warned me about Slytherin house. Thank you, Caden. So let me give you a warning as well. You’re a Gryffindor, correct? I can tell by the red and gold pin. Gryffindors should have the bravery and loyalty of a fierce lion, right? Well, when I was growing up, I was told a story of a man who betrayed my family, got them killed, and fled into the night, hiding as a rat for ten years.” Harry grabbed today’s issue of the Daily Prophet from Fred Weasley who had been holding the paper out eagerly and proudly. Harry then proceeded to shove the newspaper into Cormac’s chest. “His name was Peter Pettigrew, a Gryffindor. He was one of my dad’s best friends. They shared a dorm room together for seven years,” Harry bit out scathingly. “Point is McLaggen, there is good and there is bad. And it bloody hell doesn’t matter which house you’re sorted into. And who I choose to trust, is up to me. Now excuse me. I would like to go over my schedule with my brother. I’m hoping we have a few classes together.”

Harry finally was able to step around McLaggen who was too busy staring wide-eyed at the paper he was holding, probably reading the headline: MANRAT, CHARGED WITH AIDING AND ABETTING THE POTTER MURDER; CAPTURED AFTER TEN YEARS ON THE RUN.

The further away he got, the more his adrenaline receded and his embarrassment reared it’s ugly head, made ten times worse by the abrupt applause from Fred and George.

“Bravo, Harry.”

“Brilliant performance. Five stars.”

“Would watch again.”

“Most assuredly.”

Harry ruffled up his hair sheepishly and felt a presence at his side. He turned to his left and smiled politely at Hermione. “Hey.”

“I liked the bit where you insulted his intelligence.”

Harry laughed heartily. “You shouldn’t have liked any of it. You should berate me for acting so— I don’t know… prat-like.”

“I’d say he was the prat, as you so elegantly put it,” Hermione bantered. “And perhaps you did go a little overboard and normally I would be very disappointed, but…” Hermione sighed, and Harry stopped and looked down at her.

“What?”

“I didn’t like what he said about Slytherin and by extension Draco and Daphne. I happen to like them quite a bit.”

“You like Draco?” Harry grinned cheekily.

Hermione scoffed. “Not like that you jerk,” she protested giving his arm a playful slap. She suddenly seemed a bit scared, like she thought Harry was going to suddenly yell at her for hitting him or something, and when he didn’t, she smiled like a child opening presents on Christmas day. “I just mean… well I like how easy it is to talk to him… and Daphne and you.”

“Yeah it’s really easy to talk to you too.”

Hermione sighed again. “But you don’t understand. I’ve never had that before… friends, I mean.”

“Really? How is that possible? I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Hermione looked incredulous. “Wow… I don’t know then. Maybe everyone at my old school knew I didn’t belong there… not really. And I knew it too. It wasn’t really much of a surprise when I got my Hogwarts letter. I always knew I was different.”

“Different is good, Hermione,” Harry told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her to the back of the hall so they could make their way over to the Slytherin table. “Normal people are so boring.”

Neville met them at the end of the table. “That was quite something, Harry. I don’t think that McLaggen kid will sleep well for a week.”

Harry only shrugged. “Where’s Ron,” he asked.

“His brothers wanted to see his schedule. For what reason, I have no idea. My guess, considering what Charlie told us about those twins, they’re probably planning some prank on their little brother.”

“Let’s just hope we aren’t caught in the spell radius,” Harry muttered.

“Oh my God,” Hermione suddenly shouted as Draco came into view.

“What is it,” Harry asked looking around for the danger… or McLaggen, who he supposed might be considered a danger to his sanity.

“Oh, nothing. I just forgot something in my room. I’ll have to get it to him some other time,” Hermione said with a careless wave of her hand, but Harry could tell she was still very frustrated with herself for leaving whatever it was behind.

“Get what to who,” Neville asked.

“Draco wanted to borrow Hogwarts: A History.”

“Damn right I did, Granger,” came Draco’s voice from the middle of the Slytherin table. “Where is it?”

“I left it back in the tower,” Hermione told him.

Draco shook his head and tsked in mock dismay. “My, Granger, what a disappointment you are. I suppose you’ll just have to make it up to me,” he joked as Hermione and Harry sat on either side of Draco and Neville slid under the table to take a seat next to Daphne.

“And how can I do that,” Hermione asked.

“Honestly? You’re already doing it,” Draco admitted, looking around the table at the stares they were all receiving. “I’ll do anything to enrage these other Slytherins. It’s highly entertaining.”

Harry looked around the table as well and had to admit, they were getting some very hostile glares from some of the older students. He wondered if Draco and Daphne would get the same death glares from the Gryffindors. Perhaps earlier this morning, but not now that Harry told off Cormac. The rumors were sure to fly after that little encounter and by the end of the day all of Gryffindor would know that celebrity extraordinaire Harry James Potter, the-boy-who-lived, would not tolerate any hostility toward Slytherins based solely on the fact that they were indeed Slytherins. Harry was positive about that and he didn’t mind using his status as the boy who defeated Voldemort if it meant his brother and Daphne weren’t figuratively spit on by his housemates. Or literally. 

“What took you guys so long,” Daphne asked. “Draco and I were about to come to you guys, forgoing the plan we made on the train for everyone to meet at whichever house Draco was sorted into.”

“Harry got stuck talking to this prat. But he sorted him out,” Neville said, plucking a grape from Daphne’s plate and popping it into his mouth.

“Nice one Potter,” Draco said in congratulations. “Is he still alive?”

“Barely,” Neville answered for Harry.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry who shrugged. “Wish I could have been there,” said the blonde.

“I’m sure you’ll hear about it eventually,” Harry muttered sheepishly. “Well enough of that, let’s open these schedules. Where’s Susan?”

The five of them twisted around to scour the Hufflepuff table for their redheaded friend, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“There,” Daphne said, pointing to the entrance where her and Hannah were just stepping through. Susan glanced their way and the five of them motioned her over with rather embarrassing waves of their hands. Arm and arm with her fellow Hufflepuff, it didn’t take long for Susan to reach their table.

“Hey Neville, were you looking for the toilet?”

Everyone blinked at the shy blonde girl who just spoke, completely mystified. “Er… actually yeah,” Neville admitted. “Why do you ask?”

“Because on our way back, I’m pretty sure I saw your toad outside the boy’s bathroom,” Hannah replied, her cheeks blushing slightly as everyone’s attention was focused on her. “And I know how toads are excellent finders, like Hufflepuffs. That’s why so many of us tend to keep them as pets. They make excellent partners during a search party.”

“Trevor!” Neville popped up delightedly. “I’ll be right back guys. Would you mind pointing me in the right direction, Hannah?”

“Certainly,” Hannah responded with a little more confidence in her voice. “I’ll be right back as well Susan.”

Neville slipped back under the table and soon he and Hannah were leaving the Great Hall. Harry stared after them until they disappeared from view. “Huh,” Harry contemplated aloud.

“Yup,” Draco agreed. The two brothers smirked at each other. It was one of those not so rare times when Draco and him seemed to share a brain and both were currently thinking, Neville and Hannah sitting in a tree…

“We should help it along,” Harry said.

“Nah. He can figure it out for himself,” Draco countered. “Besides, we’re only eleven. Well, I’m not waiting for them to get back. Let’s open these things already. I fear we might miss our first class if we put this off much longer.”

***

Things could be going a lot better for Daphne Greengrass. When the hat wanted to sort her into Slytherin, she very seriously considered telling it to bugger right off. She remembered the horror stories her mother told her about that house. Slytherins were cunning and conniving and would use anything or anyone they could to get to the top. And all Daphne wanted was friends.

Her jealousy skyrocketed when Hannah returned with Neville and took a seat next to Susan. Since they were in the same house, they would share every class together. She looked over at the group of girls she would have to share classes with and grimaced.

Pansy quickly took over the first year Slytherin girl dorm. Millicent and Tracy had known the pug-faced girl for years and Daphne was immediately shunned from their little group. It was awful. The only thing that kept her from tears last night was that she was used to this. Before Susan, every girl around her age kept their distance from her. They called her the ice queen. She probably wasn’t supposed to know that, but it’s not like the daughters of her mother’s friends were particularly subtle about it.

“Oh good. We only have one class by ourselves,” Hermione muttered as the four Gryffindors and two Slytherins made their way to the dungeons for their first class: Potions.

Daphne glanced up from her own schedule. “Hmm?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, her cheeks coloring slightly. “I just noticed that the only class we seem to have with just Gryffindors is History of Magic. I’m sure it’s the same for the other houses as well.”

Daphne returned her attention to the schedule in front of her and grinned. Hermione was right. “And you’re happy about this?”

“Most definitely,” Hermione answered with a heavy sigh. “I don’t really get along with my dorm mates,” she confided.

Daphne snorted. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

Hermione gave her a sympathetic smile. “Oh really, what are your’s like?”

Daphne tried to think of a word that would describe these girls completely. “They’re… catty.”

Hermione laughed. “Yeah mine are a bit catty as well. I don’t think they read a lot, so they look at me like I’m a freak.”

“You are not a freak,” Daphne assured her.

“I am for a Gryffindor,” Hermione muttered.

Daphne sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m a typical Slytherin either.”

“The hat should have just made us Ravenclaws,” Hermione mumbled under her breath.

“What are you two talking about,” Draco asked coming up and putting an arm around both girls’s shoulders. He got a face full of Hermione’s hair and Daphne laughed. “Excited for potions?”

Daphne shrugged. “Sure.”

“Oh cheer up,” demanded Draco. “What’s got you down, Greengrass?”

“Nothing.”

Daphne watched as he glanced Hermione’s way with a look that said he didn’t believe her. He returned his attention to Daphne and scrutinized the blonde girl’s face. Daphne tried her best to look as impassive as possible. “What,” she finally asked in exasperation.

“You would have made a terrible Ravenclaw,” he told her resolutely.

Daphne scoffed. “I would have made a terrific Ravenclaw and everyone knows it.”

“No,” Draco adamantly denied. “You would have been bored out of your mind there.”

“You don’t actually—“

“I do know that,” Draco interrupted, suddenly halting in his tracks and pulling both girls around to face him. “As would you, Granger. You both would have been bored in Ravenclaw, and everyone else in this school would have been lesser for it.”

And Draco left them at that and rejoined his brother and the other Gryffindor boys on their descent to the Potion’s classroom.

Hermione and Daphne watched him go, the latter of which chuckling. “Charmer.”

Hermione laughed as well. “Is it odd that he just made me feel a whole lot better?”

Daphne shook her head and linked her arm with Hermione’s. “Yes.”

The potion’s classroom was set up with two rows of four tables facing the blackboard in the front of the classroom. With three seats to a table, Daphne sat next to Hermione and Neville, while Draco, Harry, and Ron took their seat at the table behind them. Professor Snape was not in just yet. The other tables were quickly filled and it was clear that, besides their group of six, the other Slytherins and Gryffindors decided to remain divided. Draco and Daphne were certainly getting some glares from both houses, the Slytherins for deigning to sit next to the filthy lions and the Gryffindors for deigning to sit with their fellow noble housemates. Daphne was annoyed instantly. She turned in her chair to share a glance with Draco. He rolled his eyes and grinned evilly. Daphne had to stop herself from laughing. Thank Merlin for Draco Black. Sometimes he was the only one who kept her sane. She wondered, vaguely, if she did the same for him.

Suddenly a door to the side of the classroom was flung open and the Slytherin head of house walked in. Daphne had a strange respect for the man. She had only met him briefly the night before and he said three words. “Go to bed.” No “Welcome to Slytherin.” No “This will be like your family.” He simply said “Go to bed.” It wasn’t a threat or overly demanding, but all the Slytherins obeyed immediately. While this unfortunately meant that Daphne had to spend the rest of the night practically locked in a room with her new dorm mates, the blonde still respected the man. He was odd, and Daphne rather like odd.

Professor Snape strode to the front of the classroom, his cloak billowing behind him like he practiced that particular move a thousand times just to perfect it. Daphne smiled. She’d have to learn to do that, because with one swish of his robes, the group of seventeen went deadly silent. He took a snappy roll call and then turned to the students before him, scowling equally at everyone in turn.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. 

“Potter!” snapped Snape suddenly, and everyone twisted in their seats to stare at the bespectacled boy. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide and he seemed to be wracking his brain for the answer. Come on Harry, Daphne silently urged on. You know this.

“Draught of living death.”

“Correct,” Snape sneered, but if Daphne weren’t mistaken, her professor looked oddly proud of his young pupil. She wondered if anyone else noticed the brief flicker before it disappeared to be replaced by an expression of annoyance once more. “Black, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“Probably, your cupboards, sir. I doubt a goat is roaming the halls of Hogwarts.”

Several of the students held their breath as they waited for their professor’s reaction. The two lugs who shared a room with Draco were grinning at each other most likely hoping their fellow Slytherin would get in trouble on the first day. Everyone looked up at Snape expectantly.

And Snape’s lip twitched. Just slightly.

“I will not tolerate cheek, Mr. Black, so leave it when you enter my classroom. However, you did get the answer correct, so I will award ten point to Slytherin.”

Daphne cheered with the other Slytherins and Draco smirked proudly. “Thank you, sir.”

“A Bazoar can be found in the stomach of goat and it will save you from most poisons,” Professor Snape explained. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

There was a shuffle of papers as the students pulled out some parchment and a quill from their book bags. Their corner of the room, however, remained fairly quiet as all but Ron and Neville had already written their notes. Daphne glanced over at Hermione’s parchments and laughed. The bushy-haired girl had practically written down the potions professor’s entire opening speech in her perfectly straight handwriting, like a checklist for what she would eventually learn in this class.

“Where did you learn to write with a quill? Don’t muggles use those pensiles,” Neville asked from Hermione’s right.

“They’re called pencils,” Hermione explained. “And calligraphy was one of my favorite hobbies.”

Neville looked down at his own notes, a sprawling mess of lines and dashes, hardly legible. Daphne grimaced. He would have a hard time in this class, because one small mistake, like a misread number, could possibly mean an explosion. “Hmm…”

“I can teach you,” Hermione offered and Neville grinned.

“Yeah alright, that would be great. Thanks, Hermione.”

“No problem.”

“You should probably extend that hand to Harry as well. He’s rubbish,” Daphne added.

“Am not.”

“Please,” Daphne exaggerated spinning around in her seat and grabbing his notes. “You’re handwriting is atrocious.”

“Only when compared to Draco’s,” Harry persuaded.

“I have the penmanship of a Black,” Draco declared. “It’s genetic.”

“You have the penmanship of a git.”

“Prat.”

An hour later, everyone was bent over their cauldrons brewing their very first potion: A Cure for Boils. Daphne, Hermione, and Draco were all pretty adept at their brewing, so they tried to help the others as much as they could. Hermione managed to stop Neville from putting in one too many porcupine quills and Draco and Daphne made sure Harry and Ron crushed their snake fangs fine enough. The other tables were watching the six of them with open disgust and kept throwing glances the professor’s way hoping that he would stop them from helping each other.

“Ten points for Slytherin,” Snape suddenly called, without even looking up from his book which Daphne noticed was on potions. “Mr. Black, Miss Greengrass, you may return to your own potions now. I’m sure the Gryffindors can follow these simple directions, thank you.” Then he flipped another page and everyone returned to their work.

At the end of the class, everyone had successfully brewed A Cure for Boils at varying levels of effectiveness. Draco’s and Hermione’s were by far the best, turning a perfect shade of bubblegum pink. Daphne and the three Gryffindor boys were a slightly darker shade of pink, but would still be acceptable. Most of the others did well except Crabbe and Goyle, as both of their concoctions had somehow ended up a deep purple.

“Take a vial and stopper a portion of your potions to be graded,” Snape announced and all of the students did as he asked. “Make certain to label them or you will receive a zero and this is the only time I will ever remind you to do so. Now, I’m going to teach you all a spell. Please remove your wands from your robes, where you should have kept them throughout today’s lesson. Never, under any circumstances, should you incant any other spell in this classroom, am I making myself clear? Wand magic can interact poorly with potion making, so first years only brew wandless potions. However, I believe it is important to know the following spell in case of emergency. You should have already learned this in your Charms class, but as all of you won’t be taking that particular class until tomorrow, I shall teach you. You will all have a leg up on the others tomorrow, and my suggestion would be to keep this little fact from Professor Flitwick and let him simply be impressed. Now ready your wands, out like so.”

Daphne held out her wand, imitating her professor. She had heard nothing but awful things about Professor Snape, but he was turning out to be a pretty decent teacher. She wondered, now, if those rumors were told just to scare students and leave them pleasantly surprised when they actually attended his class. Her mother was a year above the man when they attended Hogwarts and Naomi Midgeon claimed the boy she remembered was sullen and angry and longed for seclusion. Daphne didn’t see that in the potions master. He seemed just fine to her.

“Now, don’t do this yet. Watch me first,” Snape walked over to Theodore Nott’s potion and peered into the pink contents. “Excellent work Mr. Nott, five points for Slytherin.” The Slytherins all cheered once again. They most assuredly had to be in the lead for the House Cup already. Twenty-five points in two hours is impressive.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, you will all be performing the vanishing charm. The incantation is evanesco. Without moving your wand, repeat after me: Evanesco.” 

Everyone repeated the word and Daphne couldn’t help but grin. She glanced over at Hermione who was smiling as well. They had just successfully brewed a potion and now they were learning how to do a spell. It didn’t quite hit Daphne until that very moment that she was at Hogwarts. Who cared about those annoying girls she had to call dorm mates? Who cared which house she was sorted into? Daphne was learning magic and making friends. That’s all she ever wanted.

“Now you will all swish your wands over the contents of your cauldron gently, making sure the wand knows to vanish the potion and not the cauldron. Then snap your wand quickly, it’s tip pointed at the potion and say evanesco.” Snape did as such and suddenly Theo’s potion was gone. “Everyone got it? Good,” he said, before anyone could answer. “Aguementi.” Nott’s cauldron was suddenly filled with water. “Nott, you will vanish the water. Now everyone, perform the spell, exactly as I taught you.”

Daphne took a deep breath, waved her wand over the excess potion and snapped her wrist, declaring, “Evanesco.” Suddenly her potion was gone and she cheered delightfully. Hermione and Harry were right behind her with their success and the three of them beamed at each other. Harry quickly checked on Draco and Ron, while Hermione made sure Neville was saying the word correctly. But Daphne was too busy grinning at her professor who gave her a curt nod in acknowledgement. 

Professor Snape opened his hand and flashed her five fingers. “For Slytherin.” Those two words were said as if they were for her ears only. Thirty points for Slytherin during their first class, and ten of those were because of Daphne.

This was turning out to be a pretty decent day for Daphne Greengrass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Schedules for the first years (18 hrs/week):
> 
> Monday:  
> Gryffindor- 4 hours  
> Potions- 9:30-12:00  
> DADA- 12:30-2:00  
> Slytherin- 4 hours  
> Potions- 9:30-12:00  
> DADA- 2:00-3:30  
> Ravenclaw- 3 hours  
> Transfiguration- 10:30-12:00  
> DADA- 2:00-3:30  
> Hufflepuff- 3 hours  
> Transfiguration- 10:30-12:00  
> DADA- 12:30-2:00
> 
> Tuesday:  
> Gryffindor- 5 hours  
> Herbology- 9:30-12:00  
> Transfiguration- 1:00-2:30  
> Charms- 4:00-5:00  
> Slytherin- 4.5 hours  
> Transfiguration- 1:00-2:30  
> Charms- 3:00-4:00  
> Astronomy- 8:00-10:00  
> Ravenclaw- 3 hours  
> History of Magic- 10:00-12:00  
> Charms- 4:00-5:00  
> Hufflepuff- 5.5 hours  
> Herbology- 9:30-12:00  
> Charms- 3:00-4:00  
> Astronomy- 8:00-10:00
> 
> Wednesday:  
> Gryffindor- 3.5 hours  
> DADA- 12:30-2:00  
> Astronomy- 8:00-10:00  
> Slytherin- 3.5 hours  
> History of Magic- 10:00-12:00  
> DADA- 2:00-3:30  
> Ravenclaw- 5 hours  
> Transfiguration- 10:30-12:00  
> DADA- 2:00-3:30  
> Astronomy- 8:00-10:00  
> Hufflepuff- 3 hours  
> Transfiguration- 10:30-12:00  
> DADA- 12:30-2:00
> 
> Thursday:  
> Gryffindor- 3.5 hours  
> Transfiguration- 1:00-2:30  
> Charms- 3:00-5:00  
> Slytherin- 4 hours  
> Herbology- 9:30-12:00  
> Transfiguration- 1:00-2:30  
> Ravenclaw- 4.5 hours  
> Herbology- 9:30-12:00  
> Charms- 3:00-5:00  
> Hufflepuff- 2 hours  
> History of Magic- 10:00-12:00
> 
> Friday:  
> Gryffindor- 2 hours  
> History of Magic- 10:00-12:00  
> Slytherin- 2 hours  
> Charms- 3:00-5:00  
> Ravenclaw- 2.5 hours  
> Potions- 9:30-12:00  
> Hufflepuff- 4.5 hours  
> Potions- 9:30-12:00  
> Charms- 3:00-5:00
> 
> ***
> 
> A/N2- So, what did you guys think of Severus’s teaching style? I had to keep that beautiful speech from the book in, because… well, I just had to. It’s one of my favorites. Please leave a review.
> 
> Three more fancasts:  
> Cormac McLaggen- Dave Franco  
> Millicent Bulstrode- Molly Tarlov  
> Theodore Nott- Ansel Elgort
> 
> ***
> 
> A/N3- Also, I'll be out of town next Monday, so I won't be posting another chapter until the following week. Sorry for the wait.


	12. 1:12- Team Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Sorry for all the exposition in this chapter. I hope it was still enjoyable. And I hope it all made sense. It's rather long, so I hope this makes up for not posting last week.
> 
> Fancasts:  
> Natasha Bolt- Natalie Dormer  
> Kingsley Shacklebolt- Michael B. Jordon  
> Nathaniel Groanings- Milo Ventimiglia

“Where were you?” Sirius didn’t even turn around at the sound of footsteps in the doorway of his study. He just flicked another exploding snap card at the wall and watched the char marks it made with disinterest.

The footsteps grew closer and then there was the sound of a newspaper being slapped onto his desk. “I was trapped in Gringotts all day!”

Sirius finally whirled around in his seat to greet the frustrated expression of his best friend face to face. “What?”

Remus stabbed a pointer finger at today’s Daily Prophet between them. “Read it.”

Sirius was about to reply with a terrible joke, such as, “You know I don’t read,” but the look in Moony’s eye meant his brand of humor would go even more unappreciated than usual. Sirius furrowed his brow and glanced down at the paper with renewed interest. The headline was all that he needed.

“Someone broke into Gringotts?! Who would be mad enough to do that,” Sirius cried in outrage.

“I’m not sure,” Remus replied, calming down slightly now that someone else was doing the raving. “But the goblins were furious. They didn’t let anyone leave without quadruple checking their validity for being there. The security at the bank is unbearable now. I would still be there if it weren’t for Griphook.”

Sirius started reading the article and with each knew piece of information, his eyes grew wider and rounder with incredulity. “So this person managed to sneak in, open the vault, and escape under the bank’s nose… and all for nothing?”

“Yes, apparently the vault had just been emptied a few weeks beforehand.”

“By who?”

“They wouldn’t say.” Remus sighed heavily and collapsed into the chair on the opposite side of Sirius’s desk. He ran a frustrated hand through his light-brown hair. “I’m sorry Padfoot.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous. There is absolutely no need for you to apologize,” Sirius assured his best mate.

“I should have been there,” Remus countered.

“Yes you should have, but you couldn’t make it through no fault of your own, Moony.”

The two remaining marauders gave each other weary smiles. Remus gave another heavy sigh. “So…”

“It was awful,” Sirius grumbled in response to Moony’s unasked question. He shook his head and proceeded to fling more exploding snap cards at the wall. With each explosion, Sirius grew angrier until he flung the whole deck on the floor in frustration. In Remus’s defense, he didn’t even flinch when Sirius stood from his seat and let out an inhuman growl in undisguised aggravation. His head drooped and he could feel tears spring to his eyes. “Why,” he whispered. “Why do I still care?”

“He was our friend.”

Sirius snorted. “He’s a traitor.”

“Yes… but he was still our friend. Once upon a time.”

Sirius let out a humorless chuckle and started pacing the length of the room, three meters to the left, three meters to the right, over and over again. Finally he stopped and faced Remus with watery eyes. “One would think I would have accepted it by now. It’s been nearly 10 years. But—“ Sirius choked on a rather irksome sob and took a deep, shaky breath. “But I sat in that courtroom today and all I could see was Peter. My friend, Peter. And I just wanted to yell at him! I wanted him to say it wasn’t true! That he didn’t betray us! Didn’t leave my Godson an orphan,” Sirius bit out. “And then we could have Peter back. Our friend, Peter.”

Remus remained where he sat, knowing physical interaction at the moment would only increase Padfoot’s hostility, but he comforted Sirius with his steady gaze. “Did he say anything?”

“I didn’t give him the chance to,” Sirius sighed. “Grayson and Andromeda acted as my shields and I hardly listened to the trial. It was clear from the moment Wormy sat down that he was guilty. They didn’t even need a testimony from me. I left early.”

“And you came here?” Remus looked around the study and raised a curious brow at Sirius.

“I wanted to be as close to my boys as I could get. I almost went to the shrieking shack if you must know. Be glad I chose my house instead,” Sirius muttered, finally returning to his seat as all the energy drained from his body

The silence settled for a few moments. Then, he watched Remus flick his wand in the direction of the drink cart, pouring them both a glass of scotch, neat. “Drink with me?”

Sirius nodded and picked up his glass. “Sure.”

***

“Where is he?”

“Tonks?”

“Is he in there?”

Tonks motioned to the door that Remus had just exited. She hardly noticed the bemused expression on the werewolf’s face. She was on a mission to talk to Lord Black.

“Er, yeah. But he’s had a trying day with the trial and all… Are you alright? You don’t look well?”

“I need to speak with him urgently,” Tonks replied and ducked Remus’s arm. The man may have the reflexes of a werewolf (a fact known by only a handful of people, Tonks amongst them), but Tonks was certain he would underestimate her own agility. As far he knew Nymphadora Tonks was just a healer in training. She proved her theory correct as she snuck by the man easily and opened the door to the study in the Hogsmeade house, shouting, “Black?! Sirius Orion Black?!”

Her gorgeous second cousin turned those haunting colorless eyes her way and the tears she had been holding back all this time broke through their restraints.

“Tonks?” Sirius sprinted forward and caught the metamorphmagus before her knees could hit the wood floor.

“Tell me it’s not true…I really hope it’s not true…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, Sirius. I need to know—“ Tonks choked on a sob that got lodged in her throat as she lay cradled in Sirius’s arms. She blinked back the tears and tried to rally herself. Taking a deep breath she looked into those eyes and asked, “Voldemort is dead, right?”

As the seconds ticked by and Sirius had yet to utter a single word, his eyes on the wall behind her staring blankly, Tonks had her answer, and she let her eyes fall shut as the tears streamed down her face.

“Why would you ask that,” came a voice from behind her. Remus. Wonderful, sweet Remus Lupin. Sirius had been staring at him, not the wall. “Why?”

She flicked open her eyelids to meet the inquiring gaze of Sirius Black. Behind the man’s curious expression, Tonks could see the fear. She asked, “How long have you known?” 

The curiosity and panic that once graced his face disappeared and his appearance became hard and angry. He dropped her and stalked away before turning back once more. “What— What gives you the right to ask me such things?! Tell me why you have asked this of—“

“How long. Have you. Known?”

“Ten years!”

Tonks could feel her eyes widening beyond what a normal person’s face should be able to do. But she wasn’t a normal person, was she? “You’ve known this for ten years and you didn’t tell me?!”

Sirius scoffed and Tonks gritted her teeth in frustration. “Of course I didn’t tell you. I haven’t told anyone! Why in Merlin’s name would I tell my nine year old baby cousin of all people?”

“I could have handled it!”

“Like you’re handling it right now?”

That was like a slap to the face and all her rationality came roaring back to her. She blinked and released all her pent up anger in one long, slow breath of air. “Of course. Sorry.”

“Now tell me. What. The fuck. Happened?”

Tonks felt another surge of senseless hostility rise in her again. If they could keep secrets why couldn’t she? But she quickly punched it down. She swallowed down the bile that had risen in her throat and sat back on her haunches, using all her remaining strength to stand up and face Sirius and Remus head on. “If I tell you everything, will you explain everything you know in return?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow and looked to his left where his friend stood next to him. Remus shrugged and Sirius rolled his eyes. “We will consider it,” her cousin replied coldly.

Tonks never really expect much more than that. She could understand the reasons for secrets, but she had to hope that these two men and Steven, wherever he was at the moment, would trust her enough to share with her. So she was going to be as honest as she could with her story and pray to Merlin that it would be enough. “So a year ago,” she began quietly, “I was on my way to another boring day of healer training at St. Junipers… I got to the apparition point outside my flat in London and realized I hated it. Being a healer was not what I was meant to do with my life. So instead, I morphed into my muggle neighbor and apparated to the Ministry. And I enrolled in the Auror Academy. I graduated a month ago.” Never once during her explanation did she avert her gaze. She was an adult. And adults don’t back down in the face of adversity.

“Continue,” Lord Black uttered through clenched teeth. He was obviously upset by this news.

“I’ve always suspected you three were hiding something from the rest of us. Whatever it was, it must have been important, what with your numerous little secret meetings. I just never would have thought—“ Her voice broke but she remained stoic.

“But now you do?” Tonks’s eyes flickered over the warm brown depths of the man she loved. “What happened, Dora?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Something terrible.”

***

***Seven hours earlier***

“Auror Bolt!”

Tonks looked up from her paperwork. So far, a lot of her work as a graduated ministry Auror had been writing up and correcting grammatical errors on reports. She didn’t particularly mind this part of the job. Sure, it wasn’t glamorous, but it beat brewing potions in a stuffy lab all by yourself. At least here, sitting in the bull pen on Level 2 with all the other rookies, Tonks felt like she was part of something. Even in this skin, with the light blue eyes and long brown hair that she occasionally caught sight of in a window's reflection, so different from her usual light green irises and bright pink locks, Tonks felt right at home. Being Natasha Bolt was starting to become normal.

“Yes, Sir?”

One of the senior Aurors, a crotchety old man named Gibbons, slapped a folder down on her desk. “Congratulations. You’re going on your first assignment.”

Tonks perked up immediately, feeling significantly taller that she did seconds before, and she had to check to make sure she wasn’t actually growing taller, like she occasionally did at Hogwarts when a teacher complimented her work, in the window behind Gibbons. Nope. All good. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Bolt. We’ve had some floocalls from local Hogsmeade residents claiming they’ve been hearing the cries of a wounded animal late at night. So far no one has been able to find this creature, that is until this morning. I believe it was a young boy who went out for a walk. Don’t know the full story.” Gibbons looked down at his watch and sighed. “Listen, the Pettigrew trial is starting soon, so let’s make this quick. You and two other aurors— let’s make it Groanings and Shacklebolt— will be meeting with a few Beast Division officials. The location is in the report. Good luck.”

And with that, Gibbons disappeared leaving Tonks staring blankly down at the report in her hands, unsure whether to smile like a fool or gape like an idiot. This was unreal. Not only was she handed a case, but it seemed like she was put in charge of it. If she heard Gibbon’s correctly, she would have to be the one to gather Nathaniel Groanings and Kingsley Shacklebolt who, while both were rookies like her, were also older than her by quite a few years.

Not that age ever stopped Tonks before.

She pulled the folder closer to her chest and grabbed her wand and Auror badge off the desk before heading off to find her fellow fledglings with a skip in her step.

A few hours later, that once happy jaunt turned hollow and hesitant, as the three Aurors and two BDOs made their way to the outskirts of Hogsmeade where the nine-year-old witness claimed he found the wounded beast.

“Did the boy say what kind of animal it was,” Tonks asked the female BDO next to her.

“He couldn’t identify the species.”

“Probably too young to know the difference between a hippogriff and a niffler,” Groanings muttered behind them. Tonks rolled her eyes. Nate had been a pain in the arse since he was assigned this case. It was clear he did not see the merit in using auror resources for a Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures investigation. Either that, or he was upset he would be missing the biggest trial of the decade because some child found a wounded beast.

“From what I understand,” came the voice of the male official who was taking the lead, “there wasn’t much left of the creature for the young boy to recognize.”

Tonks eyes widened considerably and she shared a nervous glance with Kingsley. His cool demeanor always had a way of calming Tonks down. It was Shacklebolt’s greatest asset in Tonks’s opinion. She longed to be able to keep her composure even half as much as Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Tasha.” Kingsley suddenly halted in his tracks, his eyes enlarging to proportions Tonks had never witnessed on the man before. Tonks swallowed around the unexpected bile in her throat and returned her attention to the male BDO who was leaning over the remains of their “wounded” creature.

“Merlin’s beard,” Nathaniel croaked. “Is that…”

“A unicorn,” Tonks gasped.

Nymphadora Tonks had never had the pleasure of seeing a unicorn in person and for her first time to be like this… It was the most painful thing she had ever felt in her life. The beautiful creature was torn limb from limb, the white patches of fur were caked with a week’s worth of mud. Tonks could just make out the dead eyes and broken horn under the copious amounts of silver blood. This beast was not wounded. It was mutilated.

There was a gagging sound behind her and Tonks willed herself not to join Groanings behind a bush and expel the contents of her breakfast.

“What could do this,” Kingsley asked.

“This wasn’t another creature,” the male official answered from the unicorn’s side. “I believe this to be done by a wizard.”

Tonks sprung into action then. She ignored the nausea roiling around in her stomach and strode toward the butchered corpse. After examining the specimen for several minutes, she too concluded the unicorn was killed by a wizard. “The amputations are too clean to be made by any creature. If I’m not mistaken these cuts were made by a severing charm.”

“Hastily,” Kingsley added, having stepped up next to her during her inspection. “Whoever did this seemed desperate.”

“Clearly,” Nate affirmed. “My guess: someone was looking for a little power. Unicorn blood will do that for you.”

“Yes, but this doesn’t seem premeditated. It’s too sloppy for that,” Tonks countered, kneeling down to get a closer look at the body. “Yes, I’d say they were desperate. Dying, actually. See the bite marks on the neck. Those were made preceding the unicorn’s death. Everything else was postmortem.”

“Except for the horn,” the female official butted in. “After death, a unicorn’s horn would crumble if someone tried to sever it. In order to make a clean cut like that, the unicorn would have had to have been alive.”

“So,” Kingsley summarized, steepling his finger together under his nose as he tried to work this all out, “a dying wizard stumbled upon a unicorn and in a fit of desperation, risking a unicorn’s curse, clamped their teeth on the unicorn’s neck. The unicorn tried to get away, most likely trying to skewer the assailant with their horn which lead to the wizard slicing it off rendering the natural weapon useless. Once the wizard was strong enough again, upon realizing what they had done, they brought the unicorn here to be horribly mutilated to make it seem like a monstrous beast had done the dirty deed. Yeah? Am I getting this correct here?”

Tonks returned to a standing position and rubbed at her eyes. Merlin, this is bad.

“Who would be mad enough to do that,” whispered Groanings.

***

***Present***

“And that’s when I knew,” Tonks concluded, her terror poorly disguised by her monotonous tone of voice. “Only one man would be depraved enough to risk a unicorn’s curse. The serial murderer from my childhood come back to destroy everything. The man who haunts me in my nightmares to this very day. It was so obvious and yet no one else around me, none of the other Aurors or BDOs looked to be struck with the same sense of fear that I did. So tonight I went to make sure. And there was only one person who could answer my question for he was there at this dark wizard’s supposed demise. So I asked and I got my answer. Voldemort is back.”

Sirius whirled around and shot a hex at the nearest wall in frustration, leaving a perfectly round hole in the wood paneling of his study. Tonks wished to join him and copy his movements but her body refused to move. She was a living statue.

“Here in Hogsmeade,” Sirius whispered after a long bout of silence. “So close…”

This lit the fire under Tonks again and she roared to life, waving her hands enthusiastically as she spouted out, “Yes! Hogwarts! He’s so close to Hogwarts, Sirius! The boys are in danger! They are all in danger!”

“No, Dumbledore will protect them,” Sirius mumbled. “And it’s not as if he’s in the school itself. But he must have someone on the inside, helping him…”

“Well of course he does! We all know there is a Death Eater seated at the head table—“

“Shut your mouth.”

Tonks blinked and was blown back onto her bum with that simple interruption, for it shocked her so much. Remus Lupin just glared down at her, the power he possessed radiating off of him, and that, combined with his towering height, made Tonks feel about the size of a pixie.

“Moony,” Sirius admonished.

“No,” Remus countered. “She doesn’t get to say that about him.”

“He’s going to kill us,” Sirius reminded him, but the hint of amusement in his tone had Tonks completely perplexed.

“Excuse me, who are we talking about,” Tonks asked from her place upon the ground.

“Same person you’re thinking of,” Sirius assured her, but Tonks couldn’t possibly believe that to be true. Could she?

“What time is it,” Remus asked.

Sirius looked down at his watch, chuckled, and then pulled out a pocket watch from the inside pocket of his cloak. “Ten o’clock. And the boys are in bed.”

“Does he have rounds tonight?”

“No. But Remus, what are you suggesting here? I may have been joking about the killing, but I bet he’ll still severely maim us.”

“He can try, but right now I don’t really see many options. If all else fails, he’ll need to be here anyway. He’s the best at memory charms.”

They have to be talking about Steven. Did he work at Hogwarts, Tonks asked herself as she blatantly refused to let her brain acknowledge what was right in front of her. She also tried her best to ignore that last part about potentially being obliviated.

“Fine. I’ll floo him. You watch her.”

Remus nodded and as her cousin went to make a floocall Remus strode over to Tonks who must have looked a confused mess at that moment. The werewolf took a seat on the floor and scooted over next to her. She couldn’t help the butterflies that started wreaking havoc in her stomach and she clenched her fist in anger at how girlie she could be even at inopportune times such as this. She felt a warm arm around her shoulder and gained the courage to stare into those honey-colored eyes of Remus Lupin’s.

Remus sighed. “An Auror? Why do you constantly put yourself in danger?”

“Why do you,” Tonks countered.

Remus snorted. “I can’t really help it, can I? You know what I am.”

“Well, you know what I am,” Tonks countered. “And my talents would be wasted as a healer.” Tonks could see Remus was about to object to this statement, so she quickly interrupted. “Remus, please don’t erase my memories. You know me. I can be trusted.”

“It’s not that, Dora,” Remus muttered and as always Tonks let him use her first name. Well, part of her first name. But he could probably get away with calling her Nymphadora if he wanted. She’d let him do pretty much anything. “Sirius didn’t tell you, not because you couldn’t be trusted, but because he wants you to be safe. He loves you, you know? You’re far more than just a second cousin to him. You’re like his little sister. And he keeps secrets to protect you.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

Tonks swallowed but forged on. “Do you love me? Do you keep secrets to protect me?” When he didn’t answer, Tonks let out a frustrated sigh. “Are you disappointed in me, Remus?”

“Yes…” Remus said, running his thumb over her shoulder before adding, “And you can only be disappointed in those you love. Everyone else just receives my indifference

She leaned over and kissed Remus’s cheek before he could stop her and then crumpled into his lap as she let the gravity that she had been pushing against all afternoon finally push back. She was exhausted.

After a few seconds, Tonks turned over in his lap to look up into those kind eyes once again. “So, Professor Snape is a Death Eater, right?”

There was a long moment of silence before Remus finally answered, “Yes. Yes he is.”

“But that’s who Sirius is flooing, yeah? So why is it you both trust him so much?”

Remus seemed to ponder that for a few minutes and Tonks let him. She couldn’t quite comprehend how Snape became a part of this. Sure, he wasn’t too bad of a teacher when she attended Hogwarts. He was a bit crabby at times and gave preferential treatment to the Slytherin students, but he wasn’t all terrible. Still, everyone knew the man had followed Voldemort during the war. There was no proof, but the rumor mill at Hogwarts was rarely wrong. And the man never made any attempts to deny the claims against him. And even now, Remus had answered her question about his status as a Death Eater in the affirmative.

“Severus Snape is our friend. And he saved our family— your family. And he will save us again.”

“How…?” And Tonks wasn’t sure which question it was that she couldn’t quite finish. How is Snape your friend? How did he save our family? Or how will he save us this time?

But Remus answered all of the above and none at all. “Because we love him.”

***

The first week back at Hogwarts was always the hardest for Severus Snape. This year, however, was a significant improvement. And that’s all thanks to Draco Black and Harry Potter.

Every Monday this year he will get to spend a few hours teaching the two children who changed his mind about children as a whole. Seeing them walking the halls and hearing their names on the lips of the other professors and students, he no longer felt like he was at work. He was home.

Home.

He wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but Sirius and Remus and Harry and Draco became home to him. He still found it a little surreal. The dinners, the holidays, the trips to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. They didn’t even ask him to go. It was just a given.

Severus leaned back in his chair as he marked the last of the third year potions with an Exceeds Expectations. Mr. Weasley’s oculus potion wasn’t exactly the correct shade of orange to bring the patient’s sight back perfectly, so therefore would not receive an Outstanding. If Severus had to wager a guess, Fred and George added a pinch of crushed jasmine to their concoctions when the recipe did not call for it, Fred before adding the stewed mandrake and George after. It was an interesting experiment that really shouldn’t make Severus smile, but it did anyway. Jasmine was known to have calming properties and adding a bit to the oculus potion might help placate the patient who was hit with the Conjunctivitis Curse as their eyesight gradually returned. 

Those Weasley twins might just be geniuses, and Severus had to wonder if he was the only one who noticed.

The sound of the floo caught Snape’s attention and he twisted around in his chair to look at the always smiling, but slightly anxious face of Sirius Black. Severus raised an eyebrow.

“James Charlus Potter.”

Severus raised the other eyebrow. “Lily Violet Evans,” Snape replied using their secret code phrases to make certain everyone was who they claimed to be.

“Come through,” Sirius requested. “Hogsmeade.”

Sev nodded and the face disappeared from the flames. Severus took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, readying himself for the long night ahead of him. It must have been something important, or Sirius would have explained it to him over the floo.

Severus grabbed some floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace of his quarters, saying, “The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade.” Once he arrived at the local inn and pub, obviously quite crowded on that Saturday night form the boisterous noise he could hear in the next room over, he then grabbed another handful of floo powder and declared the address of the Black family home in Hogsmeade. It was an arduous process, and probably unnecessary, but Severus decided long ago that being overcautious was better than being under. Besides, he was never quite certain that Dumbledore wasn’t keeping tabs on his comings and goings. And it was not unusual for Severus Snape to frequent the local pub during the school year.

As he stepped through the flames into the drawing room of the Black house in Hogsmeade, he came face to face with a worried looking Sirius, nervously wringing his hands as he waited.

“Merlin, Sirius. What did you do? Do you need me conjure a shovel for that body you have upstairs, or something?”

Sirius huffed a laugh and Snape could practically see the anxiety fall from his friend’s face at Snape’s casual countenance. “It’s been a long day.”

Severus tilted his head in understanding. It had almost slipped his mind that Peter Pettigrew went on trial today. Not quite, but almost. “Well,” Severus asked with a sweep of his arms.

Sirius cocked his head and started up the staircase, Severus following after him with undisguised curiosity. “It might be better just to show you,” Sev heard Sirius mutter over his shoulder. Sirius turned into his study and when Snape entered behind him, he could feel the frown that crept across his face at the sight that befell him.

Lupin and Tonks hastily rose from their canoodling upon the floor and faced Snape. Lupin ran a hand through his hair and winced at Snape’s expression. Sirius, however, shot Snape a smile so wide, it bordered on unhinged. Black clapped Sev’s cheeks with two hands and laughed. “Sometimes I miss this face, mate. Your scowls are just so much meaner.”

Tonks gasped. “Oh my Gods! You’re Steven Prince!”

“Merlin, Moony. You didn’t even tell her that much.”

“We didn’t really have time—”

“Too busy cuddling, I suppose—“

“We— what? No. How many times do I have to say it, I don’t—“

“You were. I can’t wait to tell Charlie—“

“Bastard—“

While the two Gryffindor’s bickered, Severus watched the girl closely and each new facial expression of hers told a story that the Slytherin could read like a book. His cold voice cut through the argument like a steel blade. “I can tell what you are thinking, Miss Tonks, and no, I am not a metamorphmagus. I am, however, a highly skilled potions master.” Severus’s eyes shifted to the man still holding his face. “What is she doing here?”

Sirius dropped his hands with a heavy, defeated sigh. “She brought news.”

The four grew very quiet in the small study and Severus got the feeling he wasn’t going to like this news very much. But he asked anyway. “What news?”

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but it was Tonks who spoke first. “There was a dead unicorn just outside Hogsmeade. Murdered.”

Snape blinked. He wouldn’t have been able to guess that particular bit of information if you gave him a century to do so. “Oh,” Severus sighed, the word sounding more like a gust of wind than an exclamation. He felt like retching or shouting, but could only stand there, dumbfounded, his mind racing, but no thoughts sticking around long enough to become definitive.

“And someone broke into Gringotts.” 

Three pairs of eyes landed on the grim-faced werewolf and silence reigned. Sirius was the first to make a sound and it was nothing more than a squeak.

“What,” Tonks asked.

“Moony, you are a genius, an absolute genius,” Sirius declared in wonderment. “Who would be mad enough to break into Gringotts? That’s what I asked.” Sirius shook his head. “Of course.”

“He would,” Snape finished, voicing the words no one else dared speak. “What was stolen, Lupin?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Tonks repeated in question.

“The vault had already been emptied some time ago.”

“By whom,” Severus asked.

“What was in it,” Tonks added.

“Both excellent questions,” Sirius complimented. “We aren’t sure, but at least we know he doesn’t have it.”

Another silence settled over the room while Sirius’s statement filled them with a sense of relief, which at the moment was definitely needed. This diversion only lasted but a few seconds before Severus’s head was once again swarmed with unanswered questions.

“You said the unicorn was in Hogsmeade, Miss Tonks?”

“Just outside the town, near a cave,” the metamorphmagus answered. “We checked inside the cave and the surrounding areas to see if there was any sign of habitation, but no luck—“

“Wait— we?”

“Oh,” Sirius spoke up. “Did I not mention that my dear cousin is a full-fledged auror?”

Severus wasn’t exactly sure how the other three thought he would react to this news, but from their surprised expressions, it wasn’t to chuckle and clap his hands once in glee. “Brilliant.”

Tonks’s eyes grew wide and she let out an incredulous huff of laughter. “Y—You think?”

“You were a brilliant student, Miss Tonks, and quite adept at potions, but my Gods you seemed to hate every second of my classes. Your mind was constantly elsewhere and you bored easily. Adversely, teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts during your summers garnered much better results.”

Tonks’s immense light green eyes, that contrasted beautifully with her bright pink hair, stared up at Severus Snape like he had just given her a gift she didn’t realize until that moment was exactly what she wanted. “Thank you professor,” she whispered.

Severus ignored the glares from the men on either side of him and gave Tonks a small smile. “Anytime. Now please continue with your story.”

Tonks relayed the story of the dead unicorn for the second time that day and Severus listened with rapt attention. Once she was finished, he began pacing as he compartmentalized his thoughts. It went to show how often Snape did this, as his friends did not interrupt.

Severus suddenly stopped and started out the window of the study, just making out the dim lights of the still thriving town of Hogsmeade in the distance. “He didn’t contact me,” Severus whispered.

“We know,” Sirius said, his voice laced with assurance. “You would have told us if he did.”

“No that’s not my point,” Severus expressed. He spun around to face the other three inhabitants of the room, all of which had taken their seats on the closest available chair. Sirius raised a hand, motioning for Sev to continue. “I’m not sure why he didn’t. Being this close to Hogwarts, the school must be his goal. So why hasn’t he gotten in touch with me? Am I not—“

“If you’re going to ask if you aren’t doing a good enough job acting like a Death Eater spy, I assure you, you are,” Remus interrupted. “Tonks here was quick to implicate you.”

Tonks gave Severus an apologetic smile which he was quick to wave off. “That’s good. Well then that doesn’t explain why he didn’t contact me. I’m his spy at Hogwarts. I mean, he’s the one who placed me there. Why wouldn’t he use me?”

“He must have another spy,” Sirius proclaimed with a grimace.

“Like who,” Remus asked.

“Lucius,” Severus suggested.

“That was my first thought as well, Sev,” Sirius encouraged, “but he’s pretty hands off for a school governor. I mean, he didn’t even enroll his own stepson into Hogwarts.”

Severus snarled but knew his suggestion was ridiculous. Voldemort would never play all his cards on a maybe. And Lucius Malfoy was definitely a maybe. “Then who else?”

“Well if there is one thing we know, especially after today, Voldemort has no shortage of secret Death Eaters,” Sirius reminded everyone and the room went quiet as they all pondered the trial of Peter Pettigrew.

“I think the next question is, what does he want with Hogwarts,” Tonks asked.

It was a very good question, highly commendable. It was clear why Tonks made such an excellent auror even at her youthful age. Severus vaguely wondered if Sirius was glad Tonks became an auror instead of a hit wizard, so that he might maintain his title as the youngest hit wizard to ever pass his exams. It was a silly thought, but strangely necessary. Taking his mind off the matter at hand, even for that second, let the knowledge he was missing jump to the forefront of his thoughts. Severus frowned as it dawned on him. “Oh,” he practically coughed. “Of course.”

“Care to share with the class, Professor,” Sirius asked.

“The vault was empty,” Severus explained.

“And…?”

“And? And I know exactly who emptied it. Dumbledore… or more accurately Hagrid for Dumbledore.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know this?”

“A month ago, Hagrid was inexplicably absent from Dumbledore’s faculty meeting before the start of school. I didn’t think it was that strange, nor did I think it strange when he returned with a small package. I had just gotten done with another ridiculously pointless private meeting with Dumbledore and as I was leaving the headmaster’s office, Hagrid was entering it. It all makes sense now. Whatever Dumbledore had Hagrid take from Gringotts is now at Hogwarts.”

“Ok,” Lupin pondered, the two-syllable word stretched out for several seconds. “Then… hmm. Voldemort’s been here in Hogsmeade for a while now if we’re to trust the dates of the floocalls about the unicorn. So it’s fair to assume he already knew Dumbledore had this item. So why would Voldemort break into a vault that he already knows is empty?”

Snape squinted his eyes in contemplation. “A diversion? No,” he rejected quickly. He sucked in a breath as another wave of understanding hit him. “He wanted Dumbledore to know.”

“Excuse me,” Tonks asked.

“For the same reason he left the mangled unicorn outside Hogsmeade,” Snape continued. “He wants Dumbledore to know that he’s close and powerful. He’s close enough to obtain the object Dumbledore now has in his possession and powerful enough to sneak into Gringotts without capture.”

“He’s playing a game,” Sirius surmised. “That utter wanker!”

“What would be the point though,” Lupin asked, always the voice of reason. “Why would he let the only wizard that truly scares him know that he’s alive and looking for this mysterious object? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, we are definitely missing something,” Severus acknowledged sadly. “But I’ll keep an ear out at Hogwarts. And Sirius, pay closer attention to the other Wizengamot members. Someone is helping Voldemort. We need to find out who. Lupin, keep an eye on Gringotts and if you hear any rumblings from the werewolves, let us know. I have this horrible feeling he’ll go after them to join his cause first. Tonks, if any other suspicious cases come your way, make sure to tell us.”

Sirius chuckled without a hint of humor. “He’s back. He’s actually… back.”

Another bout of silence settled over the room and Snape was really getting sick of those. Abruptly Tonks cleared her throat. “Um… So I’m just going to say it: four ain’t that much better than three in terms of a team. You can say no, but I think we need more people. A unit, an organization—“

“An order?” Sirius’s silver eyes met the others’ head on. “Is that what you mean, Tonks?”

“Yes,” Tonks answered confidently, almost with a challenging tone behind it. “Like the Order of the Phoenix.”

“And how do you know about the Order of the Phoenix,” Severus asked.

Tonks took a deep breath. “Moody told me about it.”

“Mad-eye told you? Why would he do that,” Lupin asked.

“Please,” Tonks said, stretching out the word. “You can’t honestly believe that I became an auror without anyone’s help, do you? That man saw through my disguise almost instantly, but instead of turning me in, he made sure I was accepted under my false identity as Natasha Bolt. Moody always found it odd that everyone believed Voldemort was dead without proof, and because of that, the wizarding world thinks he’s insane. But he’s not, is he? He told me about the Order because I didn’t write his theories off instinctively. I think he sees me as an ally.”

“So you’re suggesting we add Alastor Moody to our… team, for lack of a better word,” Remus stated.

“Perhaps. I’m getting the distinct impression that none of you seem to trust Dumbledore, who was the head of the Order. And as of right now, I’m willing to go along with that. But—“ Tonks sighed and ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. “I fear we might be running ourselves too thin, here. And I know you three kept secrets to protect the people you care about… and to protect yourselves from another traitor, but if he’s back, and it looks like he is, we need a larger team than just us four.

Severus watched the other men, to gouge their reactions to the young lady’s idea. Frankly, Severus thought the girl was making a lot of sense. “We don’t have to tell them everything,” Severus muttered. “But—“

“Yeah, I know Sev,” Sirius interrupted. “We need people to find and destroy them, or all of this is for naught.”

“Might I propose a idea,” Lupin offered, before Tonks could ask, “Find and destroy what, now?” “An inner circle that will know Steven Prince’s true identity whose focus will be on finding out what Voldemort is after at Hogwarts and a wider group who will only know that this maniac is still alive and kicking and will gladly help destroy him once and for all?”

“I do prefer that others continue to not know my true allegiances,” Snape admitted.

“So just us then,” Sirius stated definitively. “This is all that will know of Severus Snape being our spy.”

Severus looked around at the other faces in the room once more. Four. The Slytherin wasn’t a huge fan of that number. It was too easy to split into pairs and create a draw in whatever decision they might have to make. Five would be better. Snape glanced over at Sirius Black. Yes, Severus thought. Five would be better. And suggesting Charlie could either garner a substantial amount of friendship points with Sirius or severely wound the poor animagus whose relationship with the young man is just getting started. 

Personally, Severus trusted Charlie. There was an infinitesimally small chance the young wizard would ever betray them. In fact, Snape was fairly certain the second eldest Weasley child would rather give up his life than have anyone he knows get hurt. And that was why Sirius might not want to rope his boyfriend into this mess.

Snape looked over at the newest member of their little group. Not telling Tonks didn’t really work out. Severus had a feeling Charlie would be the same way. The young had a way of discovering the truth when you don’t particularly want them to. That’s why Severus had to be especially careful around the children now that he was teaching them. Specifically, his observant little Godson, Mister Draco Sirius Black

“Now, who do we trust enough for the wider circle,” Remus asked.  
“Actually, I believe the first order of business is coming up with a team name,” Sirius interrupted, quickly sidetracking the conversation to a brighter topic as only Sirius Black could do.

Finally taking a seat after this simply hellish night, Snape smiled over at his friend, silently resolving himself to talk with Sirius about Charlie in private later. If anything, he might be able to appeal to Sirius’s rational side for it would be terribly useful to have a person in the inner circle who lived internationally.

However, right now, it was better just to indulge the dark-haired Gryffindor. “Alright then, what’s it going to be, Black?”

Sirius smiled back. “The Order of the Dragon.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Of course.”


	13. 1.13- Fly Draco

Draco clenched the broomstick tighter and tapped his foot on the soft grass. It was a gorgeous day and he should be up there, in the wide open blue. Instead, he was grounded because that stupid Lavender girl stood in the way of Neville’s wayward broom and Hooch had to take her to the infirmary. 

Seriously? You’ve been his housemate for almost three weeks now! You should have known to steer clear! Ok, so he might be overreacting, but being grounded with a broomstick nearby, even one as ancient as this one, is just not done. Broomsticks are meant to be at least ten meters up, slicing through the breeze like warm butter.

Draco glanced to his left where Harry seemed to be in a similar mood. “Bugger this. Nev where’s that remembrall your Gran sent you? I’m thinking we use that as a miniature quaffle.”

“Madame Hooch said to remain on the ground until she returns,” Hermione reminded him as if Draco had forgotten.

“I’ve known how to fly for ages, Granger. Nothing bad is going to happen,” Draco countered.

“Famous last words,” Daphne coughed.

“Shut it.”

Neville sighed and reluctantly handed Draco his child’s toy. “Don’t worry about breaking it. It’s not as if it will be of any real use. I’d just end up losing it.”

Draco smirked. “You don’t give yourself enough credit Longbottom. I can break this because you don’t need it. You want to be on my team?”

“Merlin, no! Count me out. I can’t believe you’re even suggesting this after the last time I tried to play Quidditch with you all.”

“You were eight,” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, and I obviously haven’t improved much,” Nev groaned, indicating the spot where Lavender Brown just went down moments beforehand.

“Fine,” Draco surrendered. “Daph?”

“I’m good here, thanks,” Daphne replied, crossing her arms.

Draco rolled his eyes. “What about you, Granger?”

Hermione looked around the open field before returning to meet his gaze with a look of chagrin. “I don’t know…”

“Hey, she didn’t say ‘no’ outright,” Harry piped in, “even though she’s clearly afraid of heights. That’s true friendship.”

Hermione squawked. “I am not!”

“Yes you are,” Harry declared as if there was no debate on the subject. And when Hermione didn’t try to refute the claim again, Draco decided perhaps there really wasn’t an argument to be had here. Harry didn’t usually pay attention to things like that. Odd.

“Ron,” Draco tried again.

“Pretty sure I’m on Harry’s team, mate,” Ron said and his brother shot him a triumphant look.

“I’ll play.”

Draco twisted around and was pleasantly surprised to see the nervous expression of the only dormmate he could actually tolerate. “Perfect,” Draco declared, turning back to Harry and Ron. “With Nott this makes it a true rivalry. Slytherin versus Gryffindor. And… begin.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We need rules first.”

“Just like any two-on-two match, Potter,” Draco said, stepping up close and grinning evilly. “Four consecutive passes equals a point. If the remembruaffle is intercepted or drops to the ground, the play starts again.”

Harry narrowed his eyes in challenge. “Got it.”

“Good.”

The brothers immediately took flight and Draco couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he tossed the large marble up and down in his left hand. While right-handed in everything else he did, when it came to quidditch, his dad taught Draco to favor his left. “It’s trickery,” his dad claimed. “Most people assume you’re right-handed and will throw the quaffle or swing the bat or catch the snitch with your dominant hand. It throws them off balance when you pull something unexpected.”

When it came to the great game of Quidditch, Harry had talent for the sport. And Draco had strategy.

It took some time for the two teams to learn each other’s movements but before long there was a real match underway. Harry and Ron were quick with their passes, each adjusting to the speed and able to catch the weighty marble easily (Harry more easily than Ron, but Ron was actually fairly decent at the game). Draco and Theo, however, devised a strategy to only go after the makeshift quaffle on the last throw to stop the point. Draco was pleased to note that Theo and him seemed to be on the same page with this. The quick passes and constant adjustments to each others’ wild throws, lead the two Gryffindors to rapidly exhaust themselves, allowing Draco and Theo to catch up with little to no effort on their part, throwing each other easy passes from short distances, and effectively using the sweep-below-and-drop-from-above approach. After ten minutes, the Slytherins were only down by one point when Daphne’s signal to warn of Madam Hooch’s approach sounded from below. The four boys hurriedly descended to the ground, Draco tossing the ball one last time and watching it fall to the grass below. Just as it was about to land and shatter beautifully into a thousand little marble pieces, a flash of unruly black hair and a horrid red and gold scarf whisked by and scooped up the remembrall before it could impact with the hard ground.

“Prat! You were supposed to let it fall. I wanted to test it’s durability,” Draco whinged.

“I think you just like breaking things,” Harry countered breathily. “And since Gryffindor won, I think I’ll deny you that little pleasure.”

“We would have won,” Theo grumbled and when the three other sets of eyes landed on him, he reddened at the attention. “Well, we would have.”

Draco chuckled darkly. “He’s right. If we were playing to ten points like we do at home, we would have reached it well before you both.”

“But we weren’t,” Ron reminded them all. “We were playing until Madam Hooch came back. I assumed it would take less time than it did which is why I advised for Harry and I to play as hard as we could, giving ourselves a decent lead immediately even though we would tire out quickly.”

Draco blinked and titled his head at the redhead in contemplation. So he’s a strategist too. Interesting.

“Likely story,” Theo muttered, but it didn’t sound hostile like when most Slytherins muddied themselves enough to actually exchange dialogue with the likes of Gryffindors. It was almost said in jest, as a joke between two friends. Draco bit his tongue to keep from smiling. He feared this was all some sort of dream and soon Theo and Ron would end up in a hexing match. (That Theo would win, of course. According to Harry, Ron was quite terrible at charms and Draco has seen firsthand how awful he was at transfiguration.)

The two teams separated as Madam Hooch’s silhouette finally crested over the quidditch pitch.

“That was fun,” Theo voiced aloud and even he seemed taken aback by the acknowledgement.

“Yeah,” Draco agreed, having been the only one to hear him.

“I hate that first years can’t try out for the Quidditch team. It’s so unfair,” Theo complained.

Draco smiled widely. Theodore Nott and Draco Black had been cohabiting mere meters from each other for nearly a month and this was the first real interaction the two of them had shared. They had every class together, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the same table. But Quidditch. That’s what brought them to finally converse.

“I know. So dumb. I bet the four of us have more skill than all the older years combined,” Draco lamented. He didn’t actually believe that, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. He was having a civil conversation with a Slytherin that wasn’t Daphne. 

“I distinctly remember telling you to remain off your brooms until I returned and yet I saw a number of you flying without my permission from the castle. Anyone care to share who it was,” Madam Hooch chirped in her shrill voice.

“It were the Gryffindors ma’am,” said one of the oafs. Crabbe or Goyle? Draco wasn’t sure. He never bothered to learn the difference between the two.

“That’s not true. Slytherins were playing as well,” said the dark-skinned boy Harry talked about sometimes. Dean, Draco thought.

Draco winced as the bickering started. One step forward, two steps back. As Draco was readying himself to explain and apologize, Harry stepped forward with the remembrall still in hand. “It was me, Madam Hooch. I convinced the others to play.”

Draco scoffed quietly, so quiet in fact that no one except Theo, who was closest to him, heard it.

“Flying lessons are done for today,” the flying instructor declared. “You may return to your dorms.” Madam Hooch flicked a wand and the discarded broomsticks marched themselves back to the cabinet which locked itself once the brooms were secured. “Mr. Potter, please come with me.”

It was Theo who flinched first, and Draco was quick to elbow him, halting his movements. Theo raised a questioning brow. “He’s Harry Potter. Don’t worry. He wouldn’t have spoken up if he thought he couldn’t get out of this. Me and you, however, are Slytherins. We’d be handed a detention instantly.”

“My father is on the board of governors—“

“Seriously, Nott, don’t worry about him.”

“But—“

“At least wait a bit,” Draco placated, motioning for Theo to join him on a walk back to the Slytherin dorms. “I’m happy you want to stand up for him considering he’s “The Hated One” here in the house of green and silver, but the Harry Potter name doesn’t mean the same thing to the rest of the school. He’s beloved and that will get him preferential treatment.”

“And if Draco’s wrong about this, then you can turn yourself in after you find out what Harry’s punishment will be,” Daphne piped up from behind them. “But Draco’s probably right. In fact, I bet Harry will be rewarded for this.”

Draco laughed and shared a nostalgic look with Daphne. “You’re still on about that business with Florean Fortescue?”

“What business,” Theo asked, once again seeming surprised that he said that out loud.

Daphne scoffed. “Potter starts a food fight in the ice-cream parlor that destroys half of the man’s shoppe and Florean just gives him a month’s supply of ice cream for free.”  
“Dad paid Mr. Fortescue back for all the damages,” Draco stated.

“Not the point,” Daphne groaned. “Point is, Harry Potter can get away with anything because he’s Harry Potter.”

“I thought you were his friend,” Theo noted in confusion.

“Oh don’t get me wrong,” Daphne appeased. “He’s one of my best friends and that’s because Harry hates the fact that he can get away with stealing sweets from a baby. He finds his fame to be horribly unjust and burdensome.”

“But advantageous when his friends are in trouble, like just now.”

The three Slytherins walked in silence as they navigated the corridors of the dungeon that would take them to the stretch of wall that hid their common room. Finally Theo said, “Has anyone ever told you that you use really big words for eleven-year-olds?”

“Father’s a Ravenclaw,” Daphne explained.

“I’m friend’s with Daphne,” Draco added.

After Draco relayed the password (“Heartstring") and the three first years entered the quiet common room, Theo suddenly stopped and fidgeted nervously from side-to-side. “So… if I hang out with you both long enough, will I start talking like a professor as well?”

Draco grinned. “One of the many perks, Nott.”

Theodore chuckled and shook his head. “Better to make friends with you and sound like a teacher, then with those two duffers Crabbe and Goyle and sound like a troll.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Draco cheered. “Oi, are you any good at wizard’s chess, because I’m tired of beating Greengrass over and over?”

Daphne collapsed onto the armchair next to the chess table and pulled a book from the nearby shelf. “Terrible at chess, but I can obliterate anyone in Gobstones,” Daphne stated primly as she opened the book to the first page.

Theo turned wide, incredulous eyes toward Draco who shook his head to indicate that he shouldn’t make fun of her for playing Gobstones. Daphne could make a career in the tournaments if she wanted. She was exceptionally good. Nott just smiled and motioned to the chess game.

The three first-year Slytherins soon settled down into a relaxing afternoon and for the first time since Draco set foot in this common room, he felt established. Not at home. But established.

As the hours trickled by and the consistent rotations between the armchair and the chess table grew tiresome, Draco was actually happy to see the scorn from his fellow housemates as they took up residence in the large common room. He could practically read their thoughts. Oh no, they managed to convert Theodore Nott. Who’s next, Marcus Flint?

Speaking of the troll-faced idiot, Flint stepped through the opening and made his way over to Draco with a purposeful stride and a disgusted sneer. “You have a traitor outside who wants to see you, Black. Should I tell him to bugger off?”

Draco clapped his book shut and shot up from the arm chair, gathering all his superiority as the son of the richest man in wizarding England as he stared down the bucktoothed third year like he was nothing more than a flobberworm ready for the cauldron. It was a look he had practiced for years which he based on the expression his Godfather gave to the salespeople who tried to con him into spending more galleons than the items were worth. But instead of letting that appearance remain on his face, Draco took a cue from his dad and decided that a drastic change of mood would throw the boy off balance, disarm him, and effectively shatter the control Flint thought his words would have on Draco. So Draco suddenly smiled, a complete one-eighty to his previous manner, and announced cheerfully, “Thanks for letting me know, Marcus. And thanks for the offer, but I should probably go speak with him. You know how needy brothers can be at times.” Draco then turned away and leaned over Daphne who had ignored the interaction and was focused solely on defeating Theo in this chess match. “Knight to D6 gives you checkmate.”

“Thanks,” Daphne replied distractedly and Draco made his way out of the common room with Theo shouting obscenities after him and Marcus still frozen to the spot having not quite caught up with the turn of events.

As he emerged from he Slytherin dorms, Draco smiled over at his brother who was leaning casually against the stone wall of the dungeons. “Been out here long?”

“Ages, actually. I thought I’d have to wait until dinner to talk to you.”

“Marcus Flint is the man you’ll want to thank. Decent bloke, that Flint,” Draco explained sarcastically.

“I’ll have to send him a note via owl, since it seems unlikely anyone in there will ever be willing to actually speak with me.”

Draco nodded. “Owl post would be acceptable.”

Harry laughed as he guided Draco out of the dungeons. “I might actually do it. Just to see his face.”

“Dad would do it.”

“And Uncle Remus would make sure it was done correctly,” Harry added.

Instead of heading toward the Great Hall, Harry took a sharp right that lead to the courtyard. Once they took a seat on a wide bench, Draco began the conversation with a simple, “So…”

“I’m not in trouble—”

“Obviously.”

“—and, in fact, McGonagall wanted me to try out for the Quidditch team—“

“What?”

“—which I refused instantly—“

“Of course.”

“—because it was completely unfair—“

“And?”

Draco’s question must have struck a nerve as Harry halted his story instantly. “And,” Harry inquired.

“And…” Draco reiterated, “you obviously had another reason for not wanting to join the team. You’re selfless, but not that selfless. There’s a little green and silver hidden underneath all that crimson.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, but eventually conceded. “Well, when I refused McGonagall’s offer claiming it to be unjust, she immediately said she would let all the first years try out for Quidditch. The rule wouldn’t just be changed for me.”

Draco let this information sink in, but there was still something off about the statement. The blonde studied his brother’s face closely. “But… you still said no, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah,” Harry cried. “Because the rule would still be changed for just me. I’d end up being the only first year in history to be on a quidditch team.”

Draco knew Harry was speaking the truth. Even if all the other first years could try out for their respective house teams, none of them would make it, either because they weren’t good enough, or (more likely) because the captains would think the first years to be undeserving of a place on the team just because the rules changed so suddenly. Conversely, the Gryffindor captain would jump at the chance to have Harry Potter on his team, no matter what year he was in.

“And… well I have this other reason,” Harry added. “It’s going to sound stupid…”

“Theodore Nott.”

Harry’s green eyes shifted to meet Draco’s in surprise. “Yeah. How did you—“

“Because I was thinking the same thing,” Draco muttered.

Harry sighed. “We’re making a difference. I can feel it,” Harry declared. “Today we had a match between two rival houses and neither team acted nastily to each other. And if I had to wager a guess, that was the most fun Nott’s had since he’s been at Hogwarts. And I don’t want him to go back to looking at me like the rest of the Slytherins you have the misfortune of sharing a house with do.”

“Yeah,” Draco huffed. “And not being able to play quidditch as a first year is like a rite of passage that all of us share. It unites us as a class.”

“Complaining leads to friendship,” Harry joked, laying back on the bench they appropriated to stare up at the cloudless sky. Draco joined him.

“Sort of. Yeah.”

***

“Eyes still closed?”

Charlie snorted. That was the fourth time Sirius had asked that in the span of ten minutes. “Yes, Sirius. My eyes are still closed. Your threat to hit me with the conjunctivitis curse proved very effective.”

Sirius chuckled and his breath ghosted over the back of Charlie’s neck as he guided the redhead to wherever it was that the older wizard had planned. “I would never actually do that, you know.”

“Glad to know you like me that much,” Charlie quipped with a smile.

“No no. I like your eyes that much. I’d never do anything to jeopardize those pools of water you call irises.”

Charlie shook his head in mild exasperation as Sirius delicately lead him down a steeper incline. “Can you at least tell me if we’re close or not?”

Charles Weasley was both surprised and unsurprised by Sirius Black’s sudden appearance the day before at the dragon reserve in Romania. He’d already received his birthday gift from Sirius the week before in the owl post; a snow globe that overlooked the Irish countryside and the castle Sirius had purchased during their previous outing was carried across the continent by one very strong eagle-owl. The gift showed what was occurring in real time, so Charlie could witness Sirius’s terrible architectural skills with his own eyes. It currently sat on his nightstand back in Romania. But looking back, Charlie realized that could never have been enough for Sirius Black. So for his day off, Sirius whisked Charlie off to Italy… Sicily to be exact, and they spent the morning riding a motorcycle through the cobblestone streets and eating biscotti with tea at the local cafes.

Then Sirius claimed to have another surprise in store for the young man and told Charlie to close his eyes. Ten minutes later and they still had not reached their journey’s end.

“Almost. You’re so impatient,” Sirius admonished as he physically maneuvered Charlie around… a fence post? He wasn’t exactly sure since his eyes were closed. For all he knew, Sirius Black was taking him around in circles in the middle of an open field.

“France, Ireland, now Italy… people are going to assume I’m in this relationship just for the extravagant traveling,” Charlie teased.

“Well, are you,” Sirius jokingly asked.

“Yes.”

The hands around his waist tightened and Sirius nibbled on his ear in revenge. “Ok, you can open your eyes now,” Sirius whispered.

Charlie did as he was asked and shifted his gaze from right to left. Yup, he was in an open field. Charlie rolled his eyes. “And we’re here because…?”

“I thought we could go flying,” Sirius said, running his hands up and down Charlie’s arms.

“Did you bring broomsticks?”

“Nope.”

Charlie twisted around to face Sirius dead-on. “Then how are we supposed to— oh.”

Over Sirius’s shoulder was a metal contraption that Charlie had only ever seen the like of in his father’s collection of muggle reference books. “Is that…?”

“A Douglas DC-3 private jet with rear access and two 1200hp radial piston engines? I have no idea what any of that means, but that’s what the salesperson said when I bought it.”

Charlie gaped at the contraption and then Sirius for several long moments before blinking. “You’re not going to be the pilot, right?”

“No, I don’t want us to die. Besides, if we’re both going skydiving someone has land the plane.”

“Skydiving?!”

Sirius shrugged. “You’ve always wanted to try it, right?”

Charlie guffawed. He remembered maybe mentioning this fact in one line on a letter he sent to Sirius almost a year ago. “I— well, I’m not really sure anymore. Looks a bit dangerous.”

“Says the man who tends to dragons on a daily basis,” Sirius reminded him. “Look, if you don’t want to do the skydiving part, then you don’t have to. We can just relax in the cabin and drink whatever that sparkling muggle drink is that came with the purchase.”

Sirius was shifting around nervously all of a sudden and Charlie couldn’t believe this man could possibly have a apprehensive bone in his body. Sirius Black was always so self-assured and confident, and the fact that Charlie Weasley could make him jittery in any way was oddly flattering.

Charlie reached for his boyfriend’s hand and took it in his own, stepping up very close until every part of their bodies were touching each other. “Let’s go.”

Sirius’s silver eyes once again flickered with the warmth and mischief that always left Charlie breathless. Charlie leaned down that fraction of a centimeter between them and left a long, lingering kiss that shifted the impatience from one man to the other. Gradually, Charlie pulled back with a sigh, and with Sirius’s hand still in his, dragged the wizard up the jet steps. “Ever heard of the mile high club,” Charlie called over his shoulder.

Sirius didn’t answer and just bum-rushed Charlie into the plane, capturing his mouth with his own once more. Charlie smiled into the bruising kiss as Sirius laid Charlie down onto the long white sofa and climbed on top of him.

Charlie chuckled. “My muggle-born friends explained the rules for being in the mile high club, and the first one is you actually have to be in the air, Mister Black,” Charlie scolded between kisses.

“Mmm… you have a point, Mister Weasley,” Sirius said, nuzzling Charlie’s neck with his nose. “Once we’re up, we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Sounds fair.”

***

It wasn’t until Sirius was jumping out of an airplane 4000 meters up in the air after the enthusiastic, good-hearted, quick-witted, and always likable redhead named Charlie Weasley, that Sirius knew he had to tell him the truth about Voldemort. About all of it. Because, here Sirius was jumping out of a muggle flying machine for this man. No, not for him. He was jumping with him. He was experiencing this incredible feeling with Charlie Weasley. And he wanted to share more emotions with the young wizard, even if they weren’t so incredible.

It was a peaceful walk, hand in hand, back to the hotel they were staying at in Taormina which let Sirius consider which was the best way to broach this particular topic. He eventually concluded that they were all going to be horrible. Because the topic was horrible.

“Let’s order room service and eat on the balcony,” Charlie suggested and it was as if the young man could read his mind.

“Perfect.”

They took a shower together and, dressed in their fanciest attire, sat down to their meals, enjoying the warm evening atmosphere overlooking the gorgeous village as they made smalltalk. 

Charlie took a sip of his wine and upon setting down the glass finally released a heavy sigh. “Out with it Sirius Black.” With head in palm, Sirius shot Charlie a bemused expression that obviously did not fool anyone. “You’ve been a little quieter than usual. Not quiet, but quieter. Something is bothering you. What is it?”

The question was asked with such apparent affection that Sirius couldn’t help but smile. But his grin quickly vanished as he rubbed a defeated hand over his face and exhaled in annoyance.

Sirius stood form his seat and headed inside, rummaged through his trunk, pulled out the letter he was looking for, and returned before Charlie could even blink. Sirius pinched the envelope between his pointer fingers and thumbs before handing it over to the redhead and retaking his seat.

Charlie looked down at the blank envelope with undisguised confusion. “What is this,” he finally asked, chancing a glance up at Sirius, but Sirius was confident his expression held no comfort.

“Ten years ago, on Halloween, 1981, Voldemort died,” Sirius began, trying his best to get through his explanation as quickly and painlessly as possible. “His AK rebounded off of Lily Evans Potter’s protection spell that she had placed on her son and struck Tom Riddle instead. What nobody knows, except a select few, is that Tom Ridde, otherwise known as Voldemort, is not dead, but a spirit looking for something that will resurrect him completely so that he may return and rule the wizarding world once more.” Sirius took a deep breath and forged on, careful to keep his gaze blurred so he wouldn’t be able to see the terrified look on Charlie’s face.

“My two friends and I have spent the last ten years trying to track down and destroy Voldemort’s six horcruxes. We’ve managed to find two and destroy none. We hoped to have more time, but I’m afraid to tell you that he has returned in some form or another. The only solace I can give is that he is clearly still weakened and he has no idea that anyone has discovered that he has created horcruxes. And he also doesn’t know that we have a spy that he thinks is firmly on his side.”

Sirius finally let Charlie’s face come into focus and though his eyes were wide with surprise and fear, the dragonologist’s jaw was set with determination.

“Questions?”

Charlie gulped and glanced down at the envelope again. “What is this?”

Sirius clicked his tongue as he hesitated. “Truth is, I’m not exactly sure. Inside is a letter from our spy. I’m not certain what the contents pertain.”

Charlie slipped a finger under the seal with only the tiniest of delays and delicately opened the envelope pulling out a small letter from within. Sirius watched as Charlie skimmed over the words and raised a perplexed eyebrow. “Sirius Black lives at 93 Subury St, Essex? Signed Severus Snape?”

Sirius gaped at the boy across from him. “That’s all he wrote?!” He chuckled and shook his head at the absurdity of it all. “That prat.”

“Wait— what?”

“Snape is our spy.”

“Professor Snape?”

“Yes. When he’s not moonlighting as Steven Prince, he’s former Death Eater Severus Snape.”

“Snape is Steven?”

“Yes.”  
Charlie opened his mouth and then promptly shut it, giving a curious glance to the town below. “Huh.”

Sirius smiled. “Yeah. Sev saved Draco’s mum once upon a time, and although he and I were enemies in school, I no longer could look at him as anything more than the man who gave me Draco. Long before that, Snape realized that Voldemort was evil and joined our side during the war as a double agent… well actually triple agent considering Voldemort thought he was spying on us for his cause. When we found out Voldemort didn’t really die that Halloween night, Sev had to make a decision quickly. He decided to live two lives so that Severus Snape could retain the illusion that he is still a supporter of Death Eaters everywhere. That way when Voldemort reemerges, he’ll still trust Snape as his spy, when in actuality he has been ours all along.”

Charlie nodded absently, lost in thought. Sirius couldn’t really blame him. This was a lot to take in.

After a long while, Charlie finally looked back up at Sirius. “What’s a Horcrux?”

So Sirius explained as much as he could. Horcruxes, Tom Riddle’s past, secret keepers, Auror Tonks and the unicorn, the future of the Order of the Dragon and Charlie’s part in it. It was long into the night before Sirius felt he had exhausted the topic and they were now lying down on the hotel bed facing each other, with Charlie brushing the hair out of Sirius’s face unconsciously. “Anything else you want to know,” Sirius whispered dreamily.

Charlie shook his head into the pillow.

“Are you alright? With everything?”

Charlie snorted. “Obviously not, but… I’m glad you told me.” After a while, Sirius thought Charlie had drifted off to sleep and was about to join him when the redhead suddenly murmured into his pillow, “When I was a kid, my uncles would tell me all these wonderful stories about how they fought the villains and saved the damsels, like knights or something. I always dreamed of joining them in their adventures. I wanted to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix—”  
“It’s supposed to be a secret organization,” Sirius interrupted with a hiss. “How is it that everyone in the world seems to know of its existence?”

Charlie chuckled. “This is why I love you—“

The room went silent as the words settled around the two of them like a heavy blanket. Silver met turquoise for an immeasurable amount of time, each lost in the world they had created, just the two of them.

Sirius swallowed, trying to bring moisture back to his dry throat. “Why’s that?”

Charlie gave a shy smile. “Because you make me laugh and you think your sarcasm is this mask you show to the world, but it isn’t. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re an excellent actor, but what you don’t realize is that it’s not an act. It’s just you.”

Sirius leaned over and kissed Charlie with all the emotions he was feeling. They were too tired to do much more than snog, but that was fine. Sirius would have been happy just being in the same room as Charlie. Impatient, but happy. Gradually, the kissing ceased and Sirius snuggled into his boyfriend’s chest, eyes drooping.

“Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

Charlie chuckled. “Good. Now, promise you won’t get angry, but… Order of the Dragon? Really, Sirius?”

“Dragons are the best,” Sirius mumbled sleepily.

“Well… I’m not gonna argue with you on that now am I,” Charlie chuckled.

There was a beat of silence where Sirius could have left it at that, just laughed with Charlie and carried on. But he didn’t. “She named my son after the dragon constellation,” Sirius added sadly, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “She used to love dragons. They were her favorite. I’d imagine she would’ve loved you too, Charlie.”

The rustling of the pillow case alerted Sirius that Charlie was looking down at him as he laid his head on the redhead’s chest. “You think so,” he asked. “She wouldn’t be jealous?”

Sirius snorted. He really shouldn’t be talking about any of this, but it felt right. “I’ve always been gay, Charlie. And I’m pretty sure she knew before even I did.”

“And yet, somehow you ended up becoming the father of her child?”

Sirius twisted around and propped himself onto one elbow as he looked down into those clear blue eyes in the twilight. “Best decision I ever made.” He could’t tell Charlie everything, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell him the truth. 

There must have been something in Sirius’s wide gray eyes that alerted people to not ask further questions about Draco’s mother. First with Frank and Alice. Then with Dumbledore. Grayson had never dared to ask. Even Andromeda and Ted had never inquired about Draco’s birth and, although it physically hurt not to tell the truth about what became of Andy’s younger sister, Sirius couldn’t help but feel grateful. All these people and not one had risked Draco’s life by asking questions that Sirius was unable to answer. And now that list included Charlie.

Charlie curled an arm around Sirius’s back and pulled the dark-haired wizard back down to bed. Sirius obliged easily, snuggling himself into the crook of Charlie’s neck like the canine he occasionally turned into.

“I’ll never get to know her, whatever her name was, wherever she came from…” Charlie muttered and Sirius held his breath in the silence that followed, preparing himself for the questions he dreaded so much. They never came. “But I know she gave you Draco… and I suppose I can love her for that.”

Sirius grinned. And that smile shined in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Sigh. Forgive me for the romance if that’s not your thing, but I hope I did the Sirius/Charlie relationship justice. I haven’t written a lot of romantic scenes before, but I really enjoy it when I do. I’ve desperately been wanting to get the next chapter out to you guys for so long now, but these last few chapters were just begging to be written. So I couldn’t deny them. I’m starting to realize that this story is going to be a lot longer than I had originally planned. 
> 
> Hope that’s not a problem.
> 
> Also, I just reached 300 followers between here and ff.net. A big thanks to all of you reading this story. I love you all.


	14. 1:14- Mortal Draco

Hey Dad,

Great news! I’m pretty sure I’m top of my class. I’m second to none in potions and astronomy (obviously) and second to Harry in DADA, third to Harry and Hermione in Transfiguration, Third to Hermione and Daphne in Charms, and second to Neville in Herbology (who knew Nev had an affinity for plants?). The only class I’m not top three in is History of Magic. I hate that class and if Daph and Theo weren’t there to throw notes at me, I’m pretty sure I’d die of boredom. If I’m not top of my class, Granger definitely will be. But I’m going to make certain she isn’t for the honor of my noble house of Slytherin (if you didn’t catch it, that was sarcasm).

I will say that Slytherin has been looking up lately. There are rarely any scowls sent in my direction anymore. Crabbe and Goyle are too busy serving detention for missing homework assignments that I barely have to see them outside of class and those rare glimpses in the mornings when they manage to actually get their ugly mugs out of bed on time. And since I’ve been hanging out with Theo, the girls who share a room with Daphne have been treating me a lot nicer. Did you notice I didn’t say “treating us a lot nicer”? Yeah, they still don’t like Daph. I really don’t understand it. Daphne Greengrass is the best. I’m not sure how I would be coping if she weren't in Slytherin with me. Daphne seems to think her dormmates see me as potential marriage material now that I’m mates with Theo. Ha! I’d rather marry McGonagall. At least she treats my friends with respect.

The Slytherin vs. Gryffindor quidditch match is next weekend. When Harry and I make our respective teams next year, you are expected to attend. Understand? Haha. Say hi to Uncle Steven, Uncle Remus, Tonks, and Charlie for me.

And have a good All Hallow’s Eve. Say hi to Uncle James and Aunt Lily for me too.

Love, your son,

Draco Sirius Black

Sirius folded up the letter and placed it gently into the inside pocket of his traveling cloak. He picked up the next envelope and broke the seal with the slip of his finger.

Hi Sirius,

How is everyone? Is the castle looking better? I can’t wait to see it! Can we visit Ireland during Christmas break?

Has the Wizengamot made any progress with the primary school? I have to say, after attending this school for the last few months, a primary school is the best idea I’ve ever come up with. I was talking with Hermione about it, and even though her public school life wasn’t that great, she was saying it would be beneficial to the students here. They’re all so isolated during their childhood so when they get here, the only knowledge they have about the world is what their parents tell them. And it’s proving rather difficult to change their minds. Like Theo, for instance. He’s changing more than most, but those rare times when Draco and Daph bring him along to hang with the rest of us, it’s still a bit awkward. Especially when it comes to Hermione. Theo was told all his life that muggleborns shouldn’t be allowed to attend school here and he hasn’t quite gotten over that prejudice yet. I feel bad for Hermione, and for Draco and Daphne. I think they miss hanging out with Hermione without all the tension.

A primary school would’ve also helped Ron. Sure, he doesn’t have a problem with Hermione for her blood status, but he tends to be pretty nasty about her work habits. He’s starting to really irritate me. He doesn’t care about anything except food and quidditch. But that’s not all there is to life. You know? I don’t know. Me and him are starting to drift a little since I tend to take Hermione’s side when it comes to studying. Neville and I don’t really understand Ron’s refusals to accept Hermione’s help. It’s odd.

I’m sure you don’t miss all this preteen drama, yeah? But I bet you miss Gryffindor tower. Merlin, I love it here, Sirius. There’s just something about the warm common room and the windows that overlook almost the entirety of the school grounds. I feel like they’re here with me. My parents. 

From all the stories that you’ve told me over the years and all the photographs, it’s almost like I can see them. Like they’re ghosts that haunt the corridors, watching me as I walk the same paths they once did. I sat on that sofa where they had their first argument. I walked through the portrait hole like they did after that detention they shared for talking during class. I stood in the spot where Dad gave Mum a rainbow of tulips.

It’s times like these where I wish I’d gotten to know them. I talk to Susan about this a lot, because she knows what its like. She sees the Hufflepuff dorms in much the same manner. We’ve become pretty close lately— I was going to say because of our shared experiences, but I figure its more in spite of them. She’s really lucky to have Miss Amelia, just as I am lucky to have you. I’m not sure who I’d be without you… and, you know, Draco too, I guess.

I miss you and Uncle Steven and Uncle Remus. I may love it here in Gryffindor Tower, but it’s not home. I wish I could at least spend Halloween with you, but since I can’t, when you visit Mum and Dad in a few days, can you read them this letter? Let them know I’m thinking about them?

Thanks,

Love,

Harry

Sirius folded up the letter and ran a hand over the smooth gravestone. “Way ahead of you kiddo,” he murmured.

Sirius laid his Godson’s letter at the foot of James and Lily Potter’s grave, joining the bouquets of tulips, each one from a friend who couldn’t be there physically. The yellow tulips were from the Tonks family, as Andromeda and Ted were at a St. Mungos Masquerade Gala and Tonks was patrolling Hogsmeade during her off-duty hours. The blue ones were from Remus who was also in Hogsmeade keeping an eye on the passages in Honey Dukes and the Shrieking Shack that Voldemort might know about and use to get into the school. The red were from Frank and Alice who had to attend the hospital Gala as well, as representatives from the Ministry. And the green, like that of Lily’s eyes, were, as always, from Severus Snape, who never got to come since he was stuck at Hogwarts, but was always there in spirit.

“Well… what’d you guys think,” Sirius asked the night sky. “Our kids are pretty special, no?” Sirius sighed and traced the names on the headstone and the quote underneath them that read, “If your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.”

Despite the sadness he felt, Sirius couldn’t help but smile at the memory that suddenly conjured in his mind’s eye. The day James Potter proposed to Lily Evans.

***Thirteen years ago***

“And so on this day, I hope that you will take all that you have learned and bring about a brighter world for the next generation to step into. I know it can happen, because I believe in us. I will miss these hallways and towers and dungeons, as I’m sure we all will, even if some of us are refusing to believe it at the moment.” 

A pair of green eyes landed on Sirius in the crowd and he chuckled. How little you know me, Miss Evans, he thought. There is nothing I’ll miss more than this fucking school. Because, unfortunately, this is the closest place that I can call home.

“To the class of 1978, I hope for the best out of all of you. Thank you for letting me be your Head Girl this year. These have truly been some of the greatest years of my life.”

There was a spattering of applause from the graduates and their families as Lily stepped down from the podium.

“And now, our Head Boy, James Potter,” Dumbledore called. Sirius and the other two Marauders cheered for their friend as a mop of unruly black hair skipped up to the stage and grinned down at them all.

“This will be quick, I promise,” said James. 

Sirius caulked his head to the side as if, for the first time, he realized Prongs was actually head boy. That should have been me, he couldn’t help but think. I was top of my class. That should have been me.

How petty his thoughts were, but could you really blame him? Sirius Black. Recently disowned member of the Black family, currently graduating with no blood relatives in attendance. Best friend of the head boy who only had eyes for the head girl. No direction for the future, no idea what he wanted. He felt like being petty. Sue him.

“On the train ride to Hogwarts, I was a wanker,” James stated clearly through the use of his sonorous spell. This declaration silenced the Great Hall like never before and Sirius perked up in his seat, straining every muscle to hear each syllable out of his fellow marauder’s mouth.

“As a second year, I was still a wanker. Third year, fourth year, every year. Even this year. I should not have been head boy. I didn’t deserve it. My exam scores were average at best and I know at least two people who have higher class rankings than me. I don’t know why I was chosen over all the others, and frankly, I don’t care. See what I mean? I’m still a wanker. I hope I made up for some of my lesser moments with a little bit of good, but I doubt it will make any difference to most of you here. You’ll see me however you’ve always seen me. And then there’s you.”

Sirius looked over at the head girl who was wide-eyed with apprehension.

“You, Lils, are why I don’t regret taking this spot from those more deserving than me. Because, without it, you wouldn’t have stopped seeing me as you always saw me. You would never have fallen in love with me like I fell in love with you all those years ago when I first saw you on the train. I swear, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.”

After that little speech, James returned his attention to the masses. “Please know that I love this school. I learned a lot here. I made friends here, friendships that will last a lifetime. And I fell in love on the way here and was fallen in love with on the way out. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a magical place. And is that ever the understatement of the century?”

And with that, James stepped off the stage. Lily seemed struck dumb, frozen like a statue, as Dumbledore stepped up to give his final speech. Sirius wasn’t even paying attention to the old headmaster, but was focused instead on the happiness shining in Lily’s emerald eyes.

He found out a few days later that James had proposed during that speech, a hidden message in the words that only Lily would understand.

“She showed me a passage from her favorite book, The Princess Bride,” James explained to Sirius as they signed up for Hit Wizard training at the ministry. It was James’s idea, but Sirius was starting to think this was the best path for him. At least, it was a path. “She read out one of the lines, yeah. ‘Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.’ Then she looked up at me and said, ‘I think you should use that line when you propose.’ And then she giggled like she was being funny.”

“But you didn’t care that it was supposed to be a joke,” Sirius concluded.

“Never do,” James confirmed. “Jokes are great. They make everything better.”

“Well… did she say ‘yes’, Prongs?”

James shot him a look that clearly meant, Well of course she did. Do I look like a blubbering, crippled mess that can’t leave the house, Padfoot?

“Well that’s good. Make sure you name me the Godfather of your future children,” Sirius joked.

***Present***

Sirius laughed to keep the tears from raining down his face. “Thanks Prongs for never accepting a joke when you hear one.” 

He knelt down in front of the headstone in Godric’s Hollow Cemetery. Not far from here, exactly ten years ago, Sirius dropped a silly hat and rushed toward the house at the end of the street with the horrid dark mark hanging above it. He never went looking for that hat again.

“I think I’m doing a good job as Godfather. I hope I am, at least. I suppose you’re never really certain if you’re doing a decent job of it, are you? I’m sure my parents thought they were bloody perfect at it, and we all know that’s not true.” Sirius sighed and fell back onto his bum, running a tired hand over his face. “Gods, I miss you. Both of you. I have these dreams sometimes where you’re alive and well. You got to raise Harry yourselves. And just like when they were babies, Draco and I would come for a visit and we’d all sit down for dinner on the patio. It hurts to know that will never happen, you know? But I think I’m making the best of this situation. Right?”

Sirius wiped his dripping nose with the back of his hand and conjured up a white calla lily, placing it within the bouquets of tulips. “From the Blacks,” he explained quietly. “Toujours.”

He took another deep shaky breath and stood on wobbly legs. “Well I should be going. Remus and Tonks are watching Hogsmeade for signs of Voldemort and I should join them. We all know how much he loves doing terrible things on this wonderful holiday. I’m not sure if I’ve said, but did you know little Nymphadora Tonks is an Auror now? I swear, all these kids are going to send me to an early— well, you know,” Sirius continued indicating the slab of stone in front of him humorlessly. “Perhaps I should ask Charlie how to add another name to my watch,” he quickly proceeded, trying his best to relieve the sudden ache that sat in his chest like an erumpant. Sirius looked down at the watch being referenced on instinct. He froze. A sense of dread that he hadn’t felt in ten years washed over him.

MP. 

Mortal Peril. 

His sons were in Mortal Peril.

He didn’t even say goodbye. One second he was standing in Godric’s Hollow Cemetery and the next he was sprinting up the steps of the Shrieking Shack.

“Sirius?”

Sirius whipped around at the sound of his name being called and could only vaguely recognize the silhouette of Remus Lupin amidst his fuzzy-looking surroundings. He opened his mouth to explain, but he was too distraught to say actual words. He needed to focus on the matter at hand, namely getting himself into Hogwarts as soon as possible, but his human brain wasn’t functioning properly. He was spiraling. Danger. Danger. They are going to die. He’s managed to get into the school. He’s going to kill them. Must protect them.

His thoughts were clipped and he could see the apprehension in Moony’s eyes. He couldn’t explain aloud, so Sirius decided on the next best thing, the only idea his muddled mind could come up with. He took off his watch and tossed it at Remus before hurling himself toward the tunnel that lead to the whomping willow on Hogwarts’ school grounds, changing into Padfoot mid-run.

It took hardly any time at all to reach the front steps of the school and his heightened sense of smell immediately started tracking the scent of his son. He still had Draco’s letter in his pocket which he was using as a reference. 

The halls were eerily empty and all Sirius could think was, Must find. Must protect. Something is wrong. His nose lead him up another staircase and Draco’s scent became entirely masked by one that was far stronger and more pungent. Sirius couldn’t quite place the smell in his dog brain, but he knew that whatever it was, Draco and Harry would be nearby.

I’m coming, boys. I’m coming.

***

“Hermione wait! Hermione!”

Harry had been chasing after the crying girl right up until the girls’ bathroom door was slammed in his face. Then he stopped portraying a look of console and let his anger run wild.

Harry stalked into the Great Hall which was currently decorated with hundreds of jack-o-lanterns that were magically suspended in the air above the banquet tables covered in the most delicious-looking sweets Harry had ever seen. On Halloween, Harry guessed dessert was served first for once. Harry searched the crowd for a ginger head.

“Merlin, Harry. Wouldn’t want to be the man you’re searching for.”

“You’re face is a bit more hostile than usual. Whose the unlucky bloke?”

Harry shifted his gaze to the left where two redheads stood. Neither were the one he was looking for. “Your brother. You seen him?”

“Percy?”

“Or Ron?”

“Ron,” Harry growled out.

“Oh boy. What did he do to get on your bad side?”

“He’s just an arse, George,” Harry answered, searching the crowd once more before turning back to the twins.

George raised his eyebrows in surprise at the statement, but Harry couldn’t help but feel it was more because Harry could tell the difference between Fred and George than because Harry called their brother an arse.

Harry’s gaze landed on two blondes over George’s left shoulder. His anger abated— somewhat— as a new idea formulated in his brain. “Never mind. I’ll deal with him later.”

“Alrighty.”

“Yeah, see you Harry,” Fred called after him as Harry made his way to the Slytherin table.

He took a seat next to Theo and across from Daphne. “Hey Harry,” Draco said. “What brings you to these parts?”

“Erm… Daph, can I ask you to do something?”

Daphne and Draco shared a curious glance before her attention returned to Harry. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Well… um…” Harry didn’t really want to tell them all that Hermione was currently crying in the first floor girls’ toilet, but he was sure they would find out eventually. “Hermione’s kind of… well, crying,” Harry sighed. “She’s in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor. Could you maybe…?”

“Go… talk to her,” Daphne finished for him, looking strangely alarmed by the prospect. “I’m not really— I’ve never really…” She trailed off and Harry would have sent her his best pleading face if she was paying the slightest bit of attention to him. Instead she was staring off into the distance with a thoughtful expression on her face. Suddenly she stood upright. “Of course I will. I’m going to go do that,” she declared. Daphne started walking away before stopping and returning to the three boys. “Er— save me some pumpkin pie, will you,” she asked Draco.

“Anything for the knight in shining black dress robes,” Draco assured her.

Daphne shook her head and rolled her eyes, a deadly combination to anyone outside her circle of friends, before she strutted away again and slipped through the hall doors.

Harry finally sighed a breath of relief. Sure, Daphne Greengrass has never been known for her comforting nature, but Harry knew she possessed that side of her. Somewhere.

“Well,” Draco said. “What happened?”

“Ron happened,” Harry groaned again, picking up a fork and stabbing one of the gummy bowtruckles off of Draco’s plate.

“Oi. Get your own.”

Harry smiled around the sweet in his mouth. “Yeah I should get back to my table anyway. Neville’s probably wondering where I am. I’ll tell you everything later.”

“Alright,” Draco conceded pushing his plate further away from Harry who was trying to spear another bowtruckle. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Harry dropped his fork, giving up the candy pursuit and stood from the table. “I’m sure you will. See you Theo,” he called over his shoulder as he departed.

Ten minutes into the meal, sitting next to Neville and avoiding all eye contact with the redhead at the other end of the table (who, according to Neville, kept shooting Harry apologetic glances), Hermione and Daphne still hadn’t returned. Harry’s foot was beginning to tap again. He had spent the last two months eating every meal with Hermione Granger in attendance. It was odd not having her jabbering incessantly across from him about everything they had just learned in their previous class.

“Harry Potter,” Neville warned. “I will kick you.”

“I’ve never seen her so sad, Nev,” Harry mumbled distractedly.

“She’s going to be fine. Hermione is stron—

Suddenly the wide double doors of the Great Hall were thrust open and in stumbled a half-crazed DADA professor shouting, “Troll! Troll in the dungeons! Everyone went quiet as they watched Quirrell hobble up closer to the staff table before falling to his knees. “Thought you ought to know,” he added, before fainting.

Harry blinked, and in that millisecond everyone around him worked themselves into a panic that Dumbeldore’s demand for “Silence!” quickly aborted.

“Good,” Dumbledore continued. “Now, prefects will lead their students back to the dormitories, Slytherin prefects will take theirs to the library. And teachers will follow me to the dungeons.”

Harry nodded his head and followed his classmates out of the Great Hall, but his mind was focused solely on more important things. Namely, Hermione and Daphne didn’t know about the troll.

Harry’s eyes met the grays of his brother’s as the two houses made their way up to the second floor. Draco looked to share Harry’s concern for the missing girls. It wasn’t long before the two boys were next to each other, trailing behind the pack of students.

“You said the first floor,” Draco affirmed.

“Yup.”

“Should we tell one of the professors?”

“They’re all in the dungeons fighting off a troll,” Harry reminded Draco.

“Right. Well then…”

Harry flashed Draco a cheeky smile that alluded to finally having that long-awaited adventure they’d both been yearning for. “Let’s go.”

“This way,” Draco said indicating a small staircase partially hidden behind a tapestry. “This is the quickest route to the first floor.”

“Dad would so proud,” Harry complimented as they jogged down the steps.

“I know. I’ve been trying to find their map, but either someone else has it or its hidden somewhere other than Filch’s office.”

Harry almost tripped down the staircase at this statement, but managed to keep upright. “What were you doing in Filch’s office,” Harry huffed as they rounded a corner that lead to the girls’ toilet at the end of the corridor.

“Sneaking in was easy. Sneaking out was a bit harder. Had to hide in his cupboards until he left,” Draco explained.

“Mrs. Norris wasn’t there?”

“No, thank Merlin! There’s something seriously wrong with that cat, Harry. She shouldn’t be that smart, especially if she’s Filch’s familiar. That man’s possibly the thickest person I’ve ever met.”

Harry laughed. “Draco I swear, you—“ Both boys stopped in their tracks as the horrible smell of rotting flesh hit their nose. “Gods! What is that?”

“Ugh. That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever smelt—“

“It’s the troll,” Harry realized aloud.

Draco and Harry exchanged startled glances, the staring contest only broken when they heard a scream coming from inside the nearby bathroom.

“HERMIONE!”

“DAPHNE!”

As the boys charged into the girls’ toilet without an ounce of hesitation, Harry berated himself for ever wishing the sorting ceremony meant fighting a troll. This was actually frightening.

And perhaps just a teensy bit fun, Harry added silently. But mostly scary. Eighty percent scary, he concluded. And a hundred percent ludicrously dangerous…

Oh well.

***

I’m being ridiculous. These idiots aren’t worth my tears. I should stop crying. They’re just a bunch of children. I shouldn’t let them get to me like this. God, I wish I was an adult, so I can stop dealing with this. I should stop crying.

And yet, the tears continued to stream down her face. Hermione was sure she looked a right mess, her eyes puffy and red, her nose all snotted up. How embarrassing. I should stop crying.

She wasn’t exactly sure what came over her when she overheard Ron’s words after Charms. She was always able to take his comments before. Perhaps it was the way he made fun of her when he thought she wasn’t listening, like this occurred behind her back on a regular basis. Perhaps it was that she was once again being made fun of for knowing things, like that was a crime against wizarding kind, just as it had been a crime against muggle kind. Perhaps it was the fact that this time, he was walking with her dormmates who all laughed along with him.

Gods, she was tired.

“Hermione?”

Hermione stifled a sob and held her breath, hoping the owner of the voice would just leave. She really couldn’t deal with anyone seeing her like this.

“Granger, I know you’re in here. Your robes are here on the sink and the pocket still has your wand in it,” Daphne called. “…You know that you should keep your wand on you at all times, right?”

Hermione let out an annoyed huff. “Of course I do.”

“Just thought I’d remind you. I’ll watch over it for you until you’re ready to come out of the stall.”

Hermione let her head roll back and stared up at the ceiling. “Or you could just leave,” Hermione suggested, crossing her fingers. All she received in reply was a derisive snort. Hermione rolled her eyes and tried her best to look presentable. She straightened her tie and tried to remove the creases from her blouse, to no avail. She stood from the toilet and smoothed down her skirt and pulled up her socks. She rolled up some bog roll and wiped the sweat off her face. She knew all of this was pointless, because Daphne probably already knew what she had been doing in here, but that didn’t stop Hermione from trying to remove all the evidence.

With a final deep breath, Hermione unlocked the stall and stepped out into the bathroom, glaring daggers at the pretty blonde who currently was seated on the countertop with her legs crossed ever so perfectly.

“Better?”

Hermione ignored the girl and charged over to her crumpled up robe, pulling out her wand and slipping it up the sleeve of her white collared shirt. She was too warm from all the crying to even attempt to put the robes back on. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Hermione muttered.

Even without looking she knew Daphne was crossing her arms and looking completely unimpressed with Hermione’s self-analysis. “Yeah, I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe,” Hermione stated blankly, as she scooped up her robes and proceeded to leave the girls bathroom.

“Hermione Granger, you will not walk away from me! I’m quite low on girlfriends, so how about you stop this nonsense posthaste or I will have to stop you myself. I think Petrificus Totales will do quite nicely.”

Hermione halted immediately and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She tapped a pointer finger against her side before spinning around and facing the Slytherin. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” she explained.

Daphne raised a model blonde eyebrow and smirked down at Hermione from her perch. “Too bad.”

Hermione sighed. “You’ll laugh.”

Daphne raised the other brow. “Well of course I will. Everyone knows other people’s pain makes me giggle like a schoolgirl,” she deadpanned.

Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Well, you are a schoolgirl.”

“Not a giggling one. Come on Granger, you should at least know that about me by now. Just tell me what happened, will you?” 

“Harry didn’t tell you?” If Daphne was surprised that Hermione assumed she was here because Harry Potter asked her to be, she didn’t show it.

“He just said you were crying and probably needed a friend to talk to,” Daphne said with a shrug that didn’t quite provide the casual affect the Slytherin was probably going for.

A friend? Hermione and Daphne were friends, weren’t they? At one point, Hermione considered Daphne Greengrass to be her best friend, but not so much lately, at least since Theodore Nott came along. Hermione was even starting to lower their relationship down to that of mere amiable acquaintances. It’s not as if Hermione Granger had ever gotten the chance to learn the difference between friends and acquaintances. She never really had much of either growing up.

“I wish we were in the same house,” Hermione said, voicing aloud a thought that had been flitting through her mind for a while now.

Daphne hopped down off the counter and strode over to stand in front of Hermione. “Was it those girls again? I honestly can’t believe there’s actually a Gryffindor version of Pansy, Millie, and Tracey. One set of petty female dormmates is already too many.”

Hermione nodded her head with a smile that threatened to turn into full-blown hysterical laughter that reverted back to crying. She’d had to deal with stupid children all her life, but she’d never had to then live with them. And figuring out how to sustain a friendship was a completely new concept for Hermione Granger. And she felt she was failing at it quite splendidly. It was easier to just push everyone away. She itched to do that now, to just run and hide in the corner of the library, to wallow in her own self-pity wondering to herself, Why can’t I have what the other children have? Where are my friends?

But one of her friends was right in front of her. Daphne came to comfort her after Harry, another friend, went out of his way to make sure Hermione had someone to lean on. And Daphne most assuredly did not have to be here in the slightest. And Hermione got the distinct impression that Daphne wasn’t one to do things she didn’t want to do.

“It was Ronald actually. But the girls were there, laughing when he made fun of me,” Hermione admitted, relieved to have finally told someone, but embarrassed by her actions afterward. “It probably shouldn’t have hurt so much and I’m just being imbecilic—“

“Shut up,” Daphne interrupted, holding up a hand to silence her. Hermione supposed she should have been offended by the Slytherin’s outburst, but was actually rather intrigued that someone was actually willing to keep her from defaming her own character. “You’ve been dealing with Weasley’s jibes for two months now and he finally managed to hurt you one too many times for you to just keep up this infallible Gryffindor facade you’ve been wearing. I know I would have broken down long before you did.”

Hermione huffed, but couldn’t help but smile. “You’re just being nice.”

Daphne’s eyes widened exponentially. “Granger, I’m not one to be nice just because I can. There’s a reason I’m in Slytherin. We don’t say anything without an agenda.”

“And what’s your agenda then, Greengrass?” It felt weird using Daphne’s surname and it probably sounded weird coming out of Hermione’s mouth. Perhaps only Slytherins could affectively get away with addressing others that way, Hermione thought. This might need further analysis.

“My agenda is simply to remain your friend,” Daphne explained, and Hermione could practically here the subtext in that statement: Sorry we haven’t been hanging out much. Are we still friends?

“Well I’d say job well done on that front,” Hermione complimented. “Although why you would want to be my friend—“

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione, shut up,” Daphne said with a roll of her eyes. “Your ability to self-deprecate is unparalleled, truly— And if you say anything about the number of difficult vocabulary words that I manage to incorporate into a standard sentence at my juvenile age, I will hex out your eyeballs and feed them to you.”

Hermione tried not grin at the threat but failed. “Get that a lot, do you?”

“An obnoxious amount. Even from the professors.”

“Well I find your extensive knowledge of the English language to be refreshing,” Hermione confessed. “I mean, most of these students don’t even know how to write a proper sentence, let alone what the definition of unparalleled is.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Daphne exclaimed, as the two started back toward the row of sinks to claim their discarded clothing, “what exactly did Ron make fun of you for?”

Hermione sighed. “Well, he was becoming rather frustrated in Charms when he couldn’t perform the levitation charm correctly. The only chance his feather had of moving even a centimeter would be if a freak gust of wind flowed through the closed window. His frustration turned out to be quite infectious, so, even though I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it, my annoyance got the better of me and I told him to pronounce it LeviOsa, not LeviosA.”

“And he made fun of you for that?”

“Basically.”

“He’s kind of a moron, isn’t he?”

Hermione stopped splashing her face with cold water and pondered this. She didn’t particularly find Ronald Weasley to be moronic. Just lazy. “He just doesn’t want to put in the effort. It’s really irritating for people like me.” Hermione shut off the faucet and grabbed a paper towel.

“People like you?”

Hermione shrugged, making this the second quirk of the shoulders that didn’t quite portray what the person was hoping for, this time being indifference. “You know… a muggleborn,” Hermione answered. “It’s just—“ Hermione wiped down her face with the towel and tossed into the bin— “all this magic stuff is fascinating. I know he’s grown up with it, but it’s still hard to comprehend how anyone could just pass all this off as another menial homework assignment.”

Daphne leaned against the sink and folded her arms, pondering Hermione’s statement. “I suppose some people just don’t like to learn. My sister’s a bit like that.”

Hermione made an unintelligible noise of consideration when the smell in the bathroom finally hit her. “Gross. The toilets smell awful.”

“Yeah, we should get back anyway before my appetite disappears completely.”

Hermione chuckled, feeling much better than she did ten minutes ago. “Thanks… for coming,” Hermione muttered sheepishly, before draping her robes over her left arm and wrapping the other around Daphne’s elbow

“I believe it’s what friends do,” Daphne replied happily. “But don’t quote me on that.”

“I’m sure you’re right though.”

The two girls made their way past the stalls and turned to right to find the doorway blocked by the ugliest creature Hermione had ever laid eyes on.

“Granger,” Daphne gasped.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think that smell was the toilets.”

There was a beat of time that seemed to stretch endlessly. The blood rushed to Hermione’s head and she could practically hear the vessels pumping adrenaline through her system. “What is it,” Hermione asked out of the corner of her mouth, as if the beast was deaf but could read lips. Hermione wasn’t really thinking clearly at the moment.

“I think it’s a troll,” Daphne answered, gently taking a step back and bringing Hermione along with her.

“What do we do,” asked Hermione.

“It’s not attacking yet.”

“Not really what I asked,” Hermione hissed. “And I really don’t like the fact that you said, ‘Yet.’”

“How did a troll get into the school,” Daphne wondered aloud and Hermione would have thought her friend was completely calm and unaffected by the troll’s appearance if it weren’t for the unblinking fear in her eyes.

The troll suddenly staggered into the bathroom and both girls froze, becoming living statues. His club swung from his right first, back and forth like a pendulum. “Get out your wand,” Hermione was finally able to command, slowly unhooking her arm from her the blonde’s and reaching inter the sleeve of her blouse.

“We don’t know any spells to combat a troll,” Daphne reminded Hermione through clenched teeth, but she reached for the wand in her inside pocket anyway. Hermione decided it would be pointless to respond to Daph’s statement.

Both girls now had their wands out and trained on the troll. Thank Merlin it was a dumb creature who seemed genuinely confused as to what it was supposed to do. However, Hermione was starting to notice that the troll was slowly backing the girls up into a corner and she needed to do something before the two first year girls were truly trapped with nowhere to hide.

“Petrificus Totales should do quite nicely,” Hermione said, echoing Daphne’s previous threat. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione watched Daph wince but slowly nod her head.

“Might do. On three?”

Hermione let out a shaky breath as the Troll’s eyes finally rested on them. She didn’t even hesitate. “Onetwothree,” she said quickly and both girls raised their wands and shouted “Petrificus Totales”. 

Daphne’s spell veered a little to right, missing the troll by a few centimeters and breaking the mirror behind the beast. Hermione struck the troll in the left leg, but it proved ineffective. Well, not completely ineffective, for it managed to enrage the troll into charging after them. The girls screamed and dashed to opposite sides of the bathroom just as the troll’s club came down where they both once stood. In the process, Hermione lost her footing and tripped, loosing the grip on her wand which sent it skidding under the toilet stall doors and out of sight. Hermione quickly scrambled to her knees and looked over her shoulder. The troll was thankfully not focused on her, but unfortunately was stampeding after Daphne who had clambered her way under the sinks. Another great swing of the club smashed just to the left of where Daphne was, decimating the ceramic sink and sending water everywhere from the broken pipes. Daphne dashed across the clearing to where Hermione was, skidding somewhat on the wet floors.

The troll was enraged, letting out a bloodcurdling wail. He whipped around so fast, Hermione got whiplash just from watching. Daphne incanted another spell that Hermione couldn’t make out the words to, but it was proven ineffective once again. Hermione’s hand sought out Daphne’s in the chaos and, though she was never one to believe in a higher beings before, she prayed to any deity that might be listening to save them.

“Hey over here!” 

“Hey dummy!”

Hermione was both relieved and terrified at the presence of the new arrivals. I swear to God, if I prayed for help and you sent two of my friends just to be killed right along with me and Daphne, I will hunt you down and kill you. I don’t care if you’re immortal. I will find a way! Later, she would berate herself for thinking those thoughts, but right now, she couldn’t care less.

The troll, confused by the new voices shouting at him, halted his assault on Hermione and Daphne, but before it could spin around, Harry Potter jumped onto it’s back, wrapping his arm around the troll’s neck and squeezing tightly.

“Potter, what are you thinking,” Draco wailed.

“I wasn’t. Obviously,” Harry answered, his teeth baring as he hung onto to the now flailing troll for dear life. “Help me!”

“Right,” Draco said, raising his wand and nodding his head. “…And how do I do that?”

“You must have learned something from Dad’s spell books! Pick one!” The troll finally loosened Harry’s grip and the dark-haired boy fell five feet and landed back by the exit.

“Locomotor Mortis!” Hermione watched as the flash of yellow sprouted from Draco’s wand and hit the Troll squarely in the chest. Whatever the spell’s affects should have been, and Hermione was pretty certain she recognized it as the leg-locker curse from her studies, the troll remained standing unharmed.

There has to be a way to defeat a troll, Hermione thought, as she was halfheartedly pulled toward the exit by Daphne while the Troll was distracted by Draco. They aren’t indestructible. They can’t be.

“Oh my Gods, Draco, be careful,” Daphne muttered, but Hermione was only half-listening. 

They were nearly past the row of stalls, when an idea finally struck Hermione. Maybe they are immune to magical spells. Their skin is too tough. They have to be hit with a blunt object. With this in mind, Hermione wrenched herself out of Daphne’s grip and sprinted to the stall she saw her wand slip under earlier. It took no time at all, but once she had her wand pointed at the troll, only then did she realize she didn’t know any spells that might help in this situation.

“Hermione,” Daphne hissed. “You could have gotten the wand later.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide with fear and her hair was a wild mane around her face. She probably looked deranged, but she was too busy wracking her brain for any spell she might have learned that would help her and her friends to care. The troll raised his club readying to smash down on a completely unprotected Draco Black. Hermione was running out of time.

Come on Hermione. You aren’t top of your class for nothing.

And like a lightbulb in the Saturday morning cartoons, Hermione was struck with an idea that just might work. It had to work.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

It was as if the whole world went quiet in the aftermath of her incantation. Hermione trained her wand on the troll’s club, levitating it high above the creature’s head. The beast, obviously confused, looked up in wonder at his floating club. When Hermione thought it was high enough, she dropped the spell and the club came crashing down onto the troll’s head, knocking it out with one blow. The troll stumbled and collapsed onto the hard marble floor, narrowly missing a wide-eyed Draco.

When the sound came rushing back to her ears, she heard herself huffing in oxygen like she had just sprinted a marathon.

“Granger,” Draco gasped and rushed to her side as she felt herself slipping under the weight of all that she had done in the last half-hour. Daphne and Harry weren’t far behind him and soon, Hermione was surrounded, completely incapsulated by the arms of two Slytherins and her fellow Gryffindor.

“Are you alright,” Harry asked, and it sounded like the question was meant for everyone. Which it probably was.

“Yeah, you,” Daphne returned.

“I’m fine. Might have a bruised arm. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before while playing Quidditch,” Harry replied.

Draco shifted Hermione’s weight to one arm and used the other to punch his brother in the stomach. “Never do anything like that again. Git.”

“Prat,” Harry wheezed, clutching his ribs.

The most inhuman and predatory growl Hermione had ever heard sounded form the corridor just outside the girls’ bathroom and Hermione didn’t even have time to think, Oh what now? before a big black dog, it’s fur matted and teeth bared menacingly, charged onto the scene. Hermione whipped up her wand again, ready to defend these people with her life if need be, but Draco’s next remark, stopped her in her tracks.

“Dad!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- And I thought I was going to get the entirety of Halloween out in one chapter. What was I thinking? Already this chapter turned out to be over 7000 words. Smh. I must be insane to write so much. Enjoy.


	15. 1:15- Hurt Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- So sorry about not posting last week. This chapter needed to undergo some serious rewrites. I like it a lot better now. Forgive me. <3

“Dad!”

Draco’s grin was wide as Padfoot leapt toward him, changing into the familiar face of his father. The next thing he knew, Draco was being manhandled by his dad as he was thoroughly inspected for injuries. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Dad. Really, I’m ok.” Draco continued to repeat these soothing appeasements until the wide-eyed Sirius moved on to Harry, who was quick to continue Draco’s placations.

“We’re alright Sirius,” Harry said. “All of us are ok.”

Their dad continued to pat them all down, even looking over Daphne and Hermione. Only when he had seen their wellbeing with his own eyes did he finally sigh a breath of relief. His eyes closed and his head drooped as he knelt in front of Draco holding his shoulder like his son might float away if he didn’t. Draco didn’t dare move for he knew that his father needed a moment to calm down, and Draco was just happy that Sirius was here, right in front of him. Finally, Sirius took a deep breath and opened his eyes, smiling brightly. Draco mirrored his expression.

“You’re all ok,” his dad said. Simply voicing this fact aloud alleviated some of the tension that had settled over the room. “Gods I need to catch my breath,” Sirius wheezed out, standing up and stepping away to give himself some air. “You should have seen me. Like a cheetah, I was. Must have made record t— is that a troll?”

Draco and the other first years, in unison, all looked around Sirius at the creature that laid unconscious on the bathroom floor, as if they had forgotten the last ten minutes in its entirety. “Yup,” Draco confirmed.

Sirius’s eyes widened considerably at this. “What happened to it,” he inquired over his shoulder.

“Hermione knocked it out with it’s own club,” Harry explained, his voice full of excitement and pride for his fellow Gryffindor.

“She did?” Sirius twisted around and narrowed his focus on the girl being mentioned. “Well done,” he complimented.

“Were we in mortal peril,” Draco asked with genuine curiosity. His dad’s watch was a fascinating little instrument.

Sirius shifted his gaze to Draco. “Of course you were. That’s a mountain troll, Draco, and a fairly large one at that. What is it even doing here with you four?”

“I’m so sorry!” Draco twisted around in surprise at Granger’s outburst. She had her hands covering her face as she tried to keep her sobs at bay. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Black.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about Granger? You didn’t do—“

“Draco,” his dad interrupted effectively silencing him. This technique never worked on Harry however who picked up where Draco left off.

“This isn’t your fault Hermione. Calm down for a second—”

“I put you in mortal peril!” Hermione wailed. “I’m so sorry.”

Draco watched as Harry made to protest again, but their dad beat them to it. “Miss Granger, look at me,” he commanded. Hermione hiccuped as she stifled her sobs and faced Sirius. “Are you telling me this is all your fault,” his dad inquired.

Draco widened his eyes in disbelief at both his dad for asking such a silly question and Hermione for nodding her head in answer. What are they talking about? Draco opened his mouth to interrupt, but his father held up a hand and Draco remained quiet.

“Why would you let a mountain troll into the school, Miss Granger,” Sirius asked. The question was inquired with such exaggeration on his dad’s part, that Draco realized instantly that he didn’t actually believe that Hermione let the troll in.

Hermione looked scandalized by the assumption and sputtered out, “I— I didn’t—I would never— I don’t even know how—“

“Well of course you didn’t let the troll into Hogwarts,” Sirius remarked with an easy wave of his hand. Hermione looked confused and Sirius smirked. Draco watched as his father knelt down beside the wide-eyed Gryffindor girl and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “So this is in no way your fault, Hermione.”

“But—“

“No,” Sirius interrupted quickly. “The only person responsible for the life-threatening situation you all were in was whoever let that creature onto school property. Understand?”

Hermione nodded but it was clear to Draco that she still blamed herself.

“So you think someone let that beast into the school,” Daphne asked.

“It seems the most likely conclusion,” Sirius admitted. “Don’t you agree, Snape?”

Four heads swiveled around to the open doorway of the first floor girls’ restroom where the head of Slytherin house stood with wide eyes and a nasty scowl that seemed to be aimed at the giant creature that remained immobile on the marble floor.

Draco winced as he realized just how much trouble he and his friends might be in right now. Hopefully Sirius Black would know what to do. 

***

“Where were you?!” Sirius returned to a standing position and rounded the children until he was directly opposite the ashen-faced potions’ professor. “They could have died, Snape!”

For his part, Severus remained stoic, but Sirius could see the apology in his obsidian eyes. For a few moments they remained like that, Snape frozen to the spot and Sirius huffing and puffing like a raving madman who had to take his frustration out on someone who was at least older than eleven. Severus fit the bill.

Finally, Snape sneered, obviously gaining his ability to think rationally again after hearing that his Godson, Lily’s son, and their friends were so close to no longer existing. “We were told that the troll was in the dungeons,” Snape snarled.

“If that were the case, how did it make it to the first floor so quickly,” Sirius demanded.

“I assure you, I have no idea, Black.”

Hearing his name coming from the mouth of one of his best friends had a calming effect on Sirius. He could still feel his blood steaming, threatening to boil over once more, but he didn’t want to take his rage out on Severus. Draco and Harry were his family too. Snape had to be beside himself, and adding onto that sense of distress was not something Sirius felt like doing, even if, at this point, it would all be an act. 

Sirius sighed and felt the fury subside a bit. “Thankfully they are unharmed.”

Sirius assumed a scowl remained firmly in place on Snape’s pale face, but his attention was focused solely on the relief that flooded Severus’s eyes. Sirius had to do his best to keep from giving Sev a reassuring smile.

“That is fortunate,” Snape agreed. However, Snape, ever the brilliant actor, had his teeth clenched like he loathed sharing anything in common with his childhood rival. Sirius side-eyed the clenched fist Severus sported and, again, had to deter himself from grinning. Instead, Sirius narrowed his eyes at the professor. He hoped outsiders would conclude that his gaze held suspicion and mutual hatred for the man opposite him and that Severus would see the gesture for what it really was: a challenge that Sirius Black could also act his arse off.

“Please do not assault my staff, Mr. Black.”

Mission accomplished. Sirius let a smirk finally settle on his lips and faced the ancient Headmaster who just accused him of accosting the Head of Slytherin House.

“Assault Professor Snape? I was doing nothing of the sort,” Sirius simpered. “In fact, my wand is still firmly up my sleeve. Unless you thought I was going to punch him, Albus?”

Dumbledore looked completely unimpressed by Sirius’s childish antics which was par for the course as far as Sirius was concerned. James Potter could set off fireworks in the middle of the Great Hall and blame it on the Slytherins with the worst pokerface in the world and Albus Dumbledore would just laugh with a shake of his head that said, “Boys will be boys.” Sirius Black could turn his already graded essay into an origami masterpiece with a flick of his wand and receive detention for not respecting his schoolwork. Sirius was used to receiving Dumbledore’s dismay. That didn’t mean it ever stopped hurting.

“How did you get into the school, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore asked calmly. So calmly, in fact, that some would even think the old man was inquiring politely as to Sirius’s sudden appearance in the castle, but Sirius knew the question was merely a disguised accusation. Did you let the troll into the school? Well?! I’m waiting son. Did you?

Sirius scoffed against his better judgement, but if Dumbledore was going to ask stupid questions, then Sirius would return with stupid answers. “I’m pretty certain the adults here all know how I got into the castle, Headmaster. Let’s not beat around the bush.” It possibly wasn’t the smartest idea to bring up the incident in sixth year, when Sirius sent Snape after Remus during a full moon to the shrieking shack, and Sirius could see Severus wince out of the corner of his eye. The flinch was subtle but still evident. Either way, it was too late to take the reminder back now.

“Alright, then I shall rephrase. Why are you here, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore continued.

“That’s the third time you called me Mr. Black in the span of a minute,” Sirius muttered. “I can’t tell if it’s just a courteous formality or if you’re actually trying to make me feel like I’m once again an idiot thirteen-year-old student. I’m leaning more towards the latter.”

“Perhaps that is because you are acting like a child,” Dumbledore accused, and Sirius could tell the Headmaster was beginning to crack, his usual calm demeanor turning more annoyed by the second. Sirius wouldn’t let the old man shatter, but he decided it might be fun to bring the great Albus Dumbledore to the brink, as only Sirius Black seemed able to do.

“You think so? You think I’m acting childish? I’ve still yet to pull out my wand,” Sirius stated, mentally ticking off that achievement as a job well done, for Dumbledore was exceedingly becoming an obnoxious target that screamed, “Hex me!” “I’ve been answering your questions, I admit, a bit snidely, but I’ve only spoken the truth. You asked why I’m here? Well, I’ll tell you. I have ways of knowing when my children are in danger, like they were tonight, and reacted on instinct. You asked me how I got into the school? Who cares?! I think the better question is how in Merlin’s name did a twelve-foot mountain troll wander into this heavily warded castle under your nose?”

The silence that followed his inquiry felt triumphant. It was almost as if he experienced firsthand what it was like to land a blow on the impenetrable Albus Dumbledore. No one seemed to know what to say next and it was unbelievably beautiful.

“Perhaps we should also look into why these four first years were not in their dormitories or in the library, where they should be,” Snape added superciliously, and it took no effort on Sirius’s part to scowl at Snape this time. Such a delicious moment, ruined. And Sirius could practically feel Hermione Granger’s worry as if they were his own.

“I think the children should follow me to my office,” Dumbledore stated serenely. “I hope that they can explain their reasons for being here, although I’m sure their defense will prove valid.”

Fuck this. “Stay where you are kids,” Sirius commanded, as Hermione and Daphne made to leave with the Headmaster. Draco and Harry, however, hadn’t budged an inch. Sirius smirked in their direction before taking a step closer to Albus, getting right up into that ancient, bearded face with those sanctimonious, twinkling eyes. “No,” Sirius stated succinctly.

Behind those half-moon spectacles, those blue orbs stopped twinkling. “No?”

Sirius stepped even closer and lowered his voice so only Dumbledore would be able to hear him. “Snape will escort Draco and Daphne to the library and I will take Harry and Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower.”

Dumbledore’s snort of derision could only be noticed if you were looking for it. Keeping the conversation between them, Albus denied Sirius’s idea, stating, “I am the headmaster at Hogwarts, Mr. Black, and I will—“

“I will become a member of the school board,” Sirius whispered threateningly. Albus clamped his mouth shut and Sirius quirked up an eyebrow in challenge. “Don’t. Test. Me,” Sirius hissed. “Not tonight,” he added with an anguished croak.

Albus seemed conflicted. Sirius could tell the old wizard desperately wanted to have his way, but loathed the idea of having Sirius on the board of governors at Hogwarts. And if Sirius didn’t know any better, Dumbledore almost seemed willing to understand the plight of a weary father who almost lost both of his children tonight. Sirius wasn’t adverse to begging at this moment, so he silently pleaded for Albus’s compassion with everything he had.

“Professor Snape, please accompany your Slytherins to the library,” Dumbledore suddenly declared.

“And what of the Gryffindors?”

“They will be escorted back to the dormitories by Mr. Black.”

“You can’t be serious—“

“Now Severus,” Albus demanded sweetly, interrupting Snape’s bogus objections.

Snape scowled in Sirius’s direction, and he knew he should have haughtily smirked in return, but he couldn’t help smiling fully as the relief flooded through his veins. “Come,” Severus demanded of Draco and Daphne before turning on his heel with mock annoyance. The swish of his robes as he strutted out of the bathroom wasn’t quite as smooth as it usually was, and Sirius noticed the subtle limp in his friend’s gait. Confusion settled over Sirius to keep the worry from showing.

“Bye Dad,” Draco said, coming up behind him, bringing him back to the here and now. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

Sirius shuffled his son’s hair playfully. “See you at Christmas.”

Draco scowled as he tried to fix his hair. “You’re the worst.”

Sirius smiled. “I know.”

“Bye Sirius,” Daphne voiced from Draco’s side. “If you talk to my Mum and Dad, try to play down the size of the troll, will you?”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius joked. “In my version, the beast will be twice as big and I’m the one who saved the day.”

Daphne giggled, and it was the first time Sirius had heard the tinkling sound of laughter all day. It was very much appreciated.

The three Slytherins exited the bathroom and Sirius returned his attention to the headmaster. “Thank you,” Sirius acknowledged, and this time, it wasn’t forced from his lips through clenched teeth. He was truly grateful.

Albus nodded. “I must gather the other teachers and attend to this troll Mr. Black. I assume you still know the way to the tower,” Albus asked.

“I’ll never forget it,” Sirius promised. He motioned for Harry and Hermione to follow him as he exited the girls’ toilet.

“Oh and Mr. Black,” Dumbledore called out after them. Sirius grimaced at the wall before turning around with a raised brow. “I’ll be watching the willow,” Dumbledore informed him, a hint of warning in his tone.

One side of Sirius’s mouth twitched up. “Good,” Sirius declared. “You never know who else might be aware of that passageway, Professor. Perhaps someone far more dangerous than I.” Silver eyes bored into pale blue as a flash of recognition flitted across the headmaster’s face. 

Yes, I’m talking about Voldemort, you barmy old man. Pay closer attention to your school.

With one final smirk, Sirius twisted around and lead Harry and Hermione up to Gryffindor tower, the familiar route turning that smirk into a full-fledged grin. 

To his left was Harry and to his right was Hermione. Each of their demeanors were so achingly familiar. Sirius sighed.

Just like old times. Right James? Right Lily?

***

Hermione stood self-consciously nearby as Harry and his dad said goodbye.

“Did you get a chance to read them my letter,” Harry asked.

“Of course I did, kiddo,” Sirius said, hugging his godson outside the door to the Gryffindor common room. “I made a promise the day you were born,” Sirius continued. Hermione shuffled uneasily next to the fat lady’s portrait who was eying Sirius with a mix of annoyance and warmth. She felt like she was eavesdropping on a private moment, but couldn’t find it in herself to just up and leave. “A promise that your parents and I would read each other our children’s letters from Hogwarts… and laugh at all the preteen drama.”

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Well thank you for getting us out of trouble, Sirius.”

“It was my pleasure. Just please, no more fights with giant trolls.”

“What about small trolls?”

Sirius shrugged. “That’s fine.” The older wizard leaned down again and engulfed his Godson in a crushing hug. “Love you kid.”

“Love you too Dad.”

They let go of each other and Harry made his way closer to the portrait hole. “See you in a couple months,” Harry called over his shoulder.

“That’s too far away,” Sirius wined. “But I suppose there’s not much I can do about that.”

Harry laughed and waved again as he opened the portrait hole and stepped through. There was a cacophony of noise from inside as all the worried Gryffindors flooded the first year boy. Hermione deeply dreaded following him and was actually grateful when Harry and Draco’s dad rested a hand on her shoulder and asked for her to hang back for a second.

“I’ll be right with you,” she called out to Harry who nodded his head in acknowledgement. She then closed the door to bathe the corridor in silence again and returned her attention to Sirius Black. “Yes?”

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck and motioned to the stairwell. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Hermione nodded her head a bit hesitantly but made her way to the stairs, parking herself on the top step next to Sirius. She tapped her pointer finger on her knee nervously and smoothed down her skirt. It was probably only a few seconds, but it seemed like hours before Sirius finally started speaking.

“I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Hermione twisted toward the older wizard in surprise. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Sirius said, looking down at her with those pale gray eyes that were far too similar to Draco’s. Those eyes were probably the only physical attributes the father and son had in common, but they were undeniably identical. “Look, I’m just going to come out and say it: I have no idea what it’s like to be a muggleborn. I knew I was going to be a wizard since the day I was born. I was always going to attend Hogwarts and wield a wand and ride a broomstick. I can’t possibly know firsthand what it’s like to discover that a whole other world exists. But I can imagine it’s pretty terrifying.”

Hermione dropped her gaze from Sirius’s and stared hazily off into the distance. She hadn’t let herself think about these things before, because she knew how much it would hurt.

“Why were you four in the bathroom?”

Hermione gulped and pushed her fear to the foreground. It was time to be upfront. “I was in the the bathroom crying,” Hermione admitted. “Daphne came to make sure I was alright when we encountered the troll. Harry and Draco rushed in to save us.”

Sirius nodded and stared at the portrait at the bottom of the staircase. “Why were you crying?”

Hermione sighed wearily. “It was nothing really. Just something Ron said. Er— Ron Weasley,” Hermione explained. “He’s this boy that Harry and Neville share a room with—”

“I know who he is,” Sirius intervened politely. “He’s sort of a friend, is he not?”

Hermione released another heavy sigh. “I thought so.”

Sirius hummed in commiseration. “It always hurts more when it comes from friends and family,” Sirius stated.

“Then why do we have them,” Hermione asked without meaning to.

Sirius chuckled darkly. “Because life would be ever so boring without them, don’t you think? Miss Granger, from what I hear from both of my sons you are quite a brilliant little witch. And a brave one. You were clearly destined for Gryffindor.”

Hermione looked up in astonishment. “You think so?”

“You don’t,” Sirius asked looking down at her in bewilderment.

Hermione shrugged. She still wasn’t quite convinced. Wouldn’t Ravenclaw be a better fit? Or even Slytherin? At least Daphne would be there.

“Mmm… Did you know Harry’s mum was a muggleborn?” Hermione nodded. She and Harry had discussed this fact a few times over the last couple months. “Well, she didn’t really get along at Gryffindor either. I remember her being such a swotty little thing. Bloody annoying.” Hermione gaped at Sirius. “Oh don’t look at me like that,” Sirius reprimanded. “I was eleven and my parents weren’t exactly the best role models. Anyway Lily Evans quickly became an outsider, with her only friend being in a different house, a house that wasn’t quite so revered.”

“Harry’s mum was friends with a Slytherin?!”

Sirius snorted. “Yup. That proved to make her even more unpopular amongst her housemates. But she was bloody brave to stick by that friend anyway. Eventually she made friend’s with my equally swotty best mate Remus and of course James, Harry’s dad, had been half in love with her since day one. But for the first couple of years, Lily had to traverse all of this virtually alone. And it took me a long time to realize how difficult that must have been for her. She could have given up long ago, but she didn’t. You want to know why?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Because she was a Gryffindor?”

“No silly,” Sirius admonished, ruffling up her hair like she had just seen him do with Draco. “You don’t do brave things because you’re a Gryffindor. You’re a Gryffindor because you do brave things. And also, she figured she was a witch, and nothing was going to deter her from that path.”

Hermione blinked.

“Now, you most certainly don’t have to take me up on this, but if you need someone who happens to be older than you and who doesn’t grade your essays, someone to talk to or help you navigate this new world you’ve found yourself in, I’m willing to be that person,” Sirius said, pointing to himself with a nervous smile. “I’m not exactly certain how well I did here, giving advice and all, but I tried really hard and that’s really all I’ve got going for me. I just thought you might like to talk to an adult figure that knows how the magical world works. And if you want, I can talk to your parents as well. I can tell you’re a bit worried about them.”

“They just won’t understand— well, any of this really. I would really appreciate it if you would talk to them.”

“Done. I actually like muggles, so it should be fun.” Hermione smiled. “Is there something you want to talk about right now, while I’m here, in person, and not in a letter,” Sirius inquired.

Hermione sat there for a long time trying to gather her thoughts into a working order. This had been without a doubt the strangest day of her whole life, even more so than the day she found out she was a witch. And perhaps the most peculiar thing about this day was that she finally felt like herself. She was a witch… with the ability to take down a twelve foot mountain troll in order to save her friends.

“I just wish we were all in the same house,” Hermione murmured finally.

“Mmm… I see. So which house do you think you should all be in?”

Hermione took a moment to think about that. It was impossible to imagine Harry Potter in a different house. He was basically the physical embodiment of Gryffindor. Would Draco and Daphne make good Gryffindors? They definitely epitomized bravery tonight. “I guess Gryffindor.”

Sirius chuckled. “Just a few moments ago you didn’t even think you belonged in Gryffindor. Now you think Draco and Daphne do?”

“Well they acted like Gryffindors tonight. They certainly didn’t portray any Slytherin characteristics.”

“Didn’t they? Hmm…” Sirius stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It’s said that Slytherins are usually depicted as cunning, resourceful, and ambitious. I used to think that was a load of bollocks. Those were just fancy words for selfish.”

Hermione laughed. “Poor Draco,” she joked, surprised at her own casualness with this man who she had barely spoken two words to before tonight. But Sirius Black was particularly easy to open up to. He just had one of those easygoing comportments.

Sirius laughed with her. “You know what’s funny though, Hermione? Selfish doesn’t always have to have such negative connotations. What’s wrong with being selfish, especially if what you want lines up with what others want?” Sirius paused and let that sink in. “You want to know the real difference between Gryffindors and Slytherins, at least from what I’ve gathered from my own experiences?” Hermione nodded. “Gryffindors, like you, me, and Harry save others because we need to. It’s a necessity, engrained in our very nature. But Slytherins… well, they save people because they want to. My guess, Draco and Daphne faced that troll tonight in their own self-interest.”

“What would they have to gain from confronting a troll,” Hermione asked haughtily.

Sirius smirked and glanced down once more at the young girl before him. “You,” he answered. “They gain you.”

***

Goddamn three-headed mutt! What a stupid creature that should be removed from the face of this Earth!

Severus so badly wanted to murder Albus during their meeting this past hour. After dealing with the troll and releasing it back into the deep recesses of the Forbidden Forest, Dumbledore had called on Severus. Though Albus had yet to confess to Severus what the item hidden under the trapdoor on the third floor corridor was, the Headmaster had put the professor in charge of guarding it. Assuming the troll was a distraction, Snape, who was tasked in the spur of the moment with finding the person responsible, made his way to the third floor without question. Unfortunately, he had to explain to Albus that he found no one lurking around the third floor during the diversion. Dumbledore had then asked Snape about his thoughts on potential suspects and, sadly, Snape had to act like he thought Sirius was the culprit, for his friend’s arrival was highly suspicious to those who didn’t know him well. And even more worrying was that the Headmaster’s denials as to Sirius’s involvement in this situation were lackluster at best. Snape started to wonder if convincing Dumbledore of Black’s guilt was a futile pursuit for it seemed the old wizard already had Sirius as lead suspect number one.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in the comfort of his own quarters before continuing his search for the healing paste he made a few weeks ago.

And there was another reason he wanted to AK Albus Dumbledore in his sleep. Who keeps a cerberus in a school full of children? The illustrious wizard had officially lost the plot.

His calf stung painfully and he was losing his ability to stand. He summoned a chair and settled down in front of his potion’s cabinet, rifling through the vials once more. He didn’t even know why he bothered. Severus Snape was a meticulous man who knew exactly where each of his potions were at any given time. The soothing paste was not where it was supposed to be in his cupboard which meant the vials were no longer in this room. Sev vaguely remembered giving a group of potion bottles to Poppy a week ago when a student came into the infirmary with a Quidditch practice injury.

Severus sighed and slowly unclenched his fists so he wouldn’t lash out at his remaining supplies. Suddenly there was a knock at his door and his fist resumed its clenched state. I swear to all the Gods, if this is Albus, I will happily head to Azkaban for killing the old coot.

Standing stiffly, Severus limped his way to the door and cracked it open a hair. “Sirius,” Severus hissed. “What are you doing here?” Padfoot pawed at the door, wining pitifully. Severus sighed and opened the doorway wider, letting the large black dog into his humble abode. “Did anybody see you?”

Padfoot transformed back into Sirius Black who’s gray eyes regarded Severus with derision, as if to sarcastically say, “Why yes Severus, the entire school is waiting outside your quarters with pitchforks.”

“Alright, no need to mock, you git,” Severus muttered with a roll of his eyes. “You just put yourself at unnecessary risk to come see me. What are you doing here?”

“You’re hurt.”

Severus paused mid-stride and glanced up at Sirius. “I can take care of myself—“

“I know—“

“And I heard Albus say he was going to watch the willow—“

“I didn’t go through the willow—“

“I’m perfectly capable—“

“GODDAMNIT SEVERUS, I KNOW YOU CAN TEND TO YOUR OWN WOUNDS BUT LET ME JUST TAKE CARE OF YOU!!!”

The two wizards regarded each other with mild embarrassment at Sirius’s outburst, but eventually Severus conceded and collapsed down onto the sofa in his sitting room. Sirius sat down hesitantly beside him and Snape lifted his leg onto the man’s lap.

“You didn’t go through the whomping willow,” Snape inquired as Sirius lifted up his pant leg to inspect the injury.

“I’m not an imbecile,” Sirius muttered during his thorough examination of the wound. “After I explained tonight’s events to Moony, I snuck into the Honeydukes cellar which has a passage that leads to the one-eyed witch statue. James found that one fifth year.”

“Hmph.”

Sirius ignored him, his eyes narrowing on the bite in confusion. “Severus… if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you encountered a cerberus tonight.” Black lifted his head and raised an eyebrow.

Severus sighed. “I was going to break it to you gently, but I forgot that you’re some kind of secret genius who received O’s in every bloody NEWT he took,” he mocked.

Despite the worry on his face, Severus noticed Sirius puffing out his chest at the compliment.

“Alright so you were bitten by a three-headed dog,” Sirius mused. “Now, I’ll ask again… When the children were fighting a troll on the first floor and the staff were looking for said troll in the dungeons, where exactly were you?”

“Third floor,” Snape answered without hesitation.

They were quiet for a moment, Severus watching Sirius’s face as his expression went from confused to concerned to annoyed and back again. Sirius gently removed Snape’s leg from his lap and stood from the sofa. He made his way to Severus’s private supply cupboard and shuffled through his potions, lost in thought.

“Why?” The serenity in Black’s simple question sent an involuntary shiver down Severus’s spine.

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably. The pain from the bite on his calf was nothing compared to Sirius’s disappointment. Severus took a deep breath and forged on. “Albus and I were quick to deduce that the troll was a distraction. I was sent to watch a third floor corridor where Dumbledore has hidden the mysterious item he had taken from Gringotts and find out who’s trying to steal it.”

“Did you find out,” Sirius asked as he briefly considered a vial of poison antidote before placing it back in the cupboard. Severus was chagrined to note that there wasn’t a hint of hope in Black’s question.

“No.”

“Any ideas?”

Severus hesitated before answering. “No.”

Sirius hummed in frustration before removing a vial of murlap essence and making his way over to Snape. Won’t be the best at healing my wound, but it will have to do, Severus mused.

Black held his wand to the cerberus bite and incanted a thorough cleaning spell before spreading the murlap essence over the wound with a bit of cloth. “I take it Dumbledore presumes I am the man he’s looking for and you had to agree or look suspicious as well?”

Severus felt the stinging subsided but couldn’t enjoy the relief as he grimaced. “Regrettably, yes.”

Sirius snorted, and with that short laugh came the typical shit-eating grin that Snape had grown to care for. “Don’t worry Sev, I understand. My appearance was supremely suspect and with no one else acting out of character, who else could you possibly implicate?”

Severus blinked. Out of character? He cocked his head to the side and Sirius raised his gaze from Snape’s leg to his face with curiosity. “What,” he asked.

Severus rose from his sofa and began pacing back and forth which always helped him think. “Hey! I just healed that leg. Don’t go messing it up again,” Sirius chastised, but his objections were hardly genuine. Snape knew Black was watching his alternating steps with great interest, waiting for the right thoughts to reach his brain.

Quirrell. Snape halted in his tracks and looked down at the man who had taken his vacated seat on the sofa. Sirius looked up at him like a dog asking for a biscuit.

“Tell me, Sirius… if you were the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and you discovered a troll in the dungeons, would you run into the dining hall raving about it like a lunatic before fainting?”

Sirius blinked in bemusement. “No,” he replied slowly.

“Well Quirrell did.”

Sirius huffed out a bewildered laugh, looking very certain that Severus was lying to him. “Quirinus Quirrell?”

Snape nodded and Sirius sobered.

“But— but he can’t be helping Voldemort,” Black rationalized. “The man taught muggle studies for Merlin’s sake!”

“And Peter Pettigrew was a half-blood, a Gryffindor, and a marauder,” Severus countered, slightly ashamed for making Sirius involuntarily flinch. “The promise of power is terribly strong, Sirius,” Snape reasoned. “It was for me.”

Sirius shook his head, still in denial, but the last sentence must have burrowed its way through his rejections, because he froze and seemed to ponder Severus’s words. “That kind of power isn’t real though,” Sirius finally murmured. “That power is seated precariously atop a high tower. One blow and it all topples over. How is it that none of these people seem to realize that?”

Snape smirked. “I did.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, Sev. I don’t think you realized that type of power was fleeting either. Not for a long time anyway. Not until you thought of me, Remus, Draco, and Harry as family.”

Snape stood there in silence as he let those words wash over him and fill him completely, every extremity warmed by Sirius’s words. He was right of course. Knowing there is someone there to catch you when you fall, to believe in you when no-one else will, to hoist you back up and support you with every ounce of strength they have in them… that type of power cannot be bested, even by the promise of magic beyond anything you can imagine from a seemingly immortal man.

“So,” Severus said, shaking himself out of his humbled reverie, “are we really considering Quirrell, then?”

Sirius nodded. “However unlikely it seems, there really is no one else. Just… keep an eye on him, Sev.”

Snape nodded and grinned as Sirius’s head dropped in exhaustion onto the armrest of the sofa. “You can stay here for the night if you want,” Snape offered.

“Mmm…”

Severus shook his head with mirth and grabbed a quilt from his wardrobe, laying it out over Sirius who snuggled into it gratefully. Thanks for heeling my leg, Severus silently said in gratitude. And for caring enough to show up in the first place… and for everything else that I would never admit to you aloud.

“You’re welcome by the way,” Sirius suddenly said, startling Severus thoroughly. His gaze sought out Sirius’s silver eyes which were open with undisguised amusement.

“And what is it I should have thanked you for exactly,” Severus asked mockingly.

Sirius smirked into the armrest. “Just make sure you brew some proper cerberus healing potion in the next week or the injury will become painful again.”

“Yes professor,” Snape teased. “Now get some sleep.”

“Yes mom,” Sirius teased in return. “Good night.”

“Night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Again, sorry for the delay. The original dialogue for this chapter was… not what I wanted. This is much much better. It’s still not exactly how these scenes went when I pictured them in my head while I was in the shower, but it’s close. Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> A/N-2- WARNING: LONG-WINDED RANT IMPENDING
> 
> I’m basically dying of laughter right now. I finally got a not-so-enthusiastic response by an anonymous reviewer about my Sirius/Charlie pairing last week, and when I say “not enthusiastic”, I mean incredibly upset. The review stated: 
> 
> “That's definitely not my thing and it really puts a UNNESSARY DUMP on what would be an excellent story. I really don't intend to be anti gay, put am extraordinarily tired of being unnecessarily proselytized for such an ultimately meaningless cause.” 
> 
> I even had to look up what proselytize meant. Sorry whatever your name is. I wasn’t trying to convert you and your delicate sensibilities. Can I ask, if I wrote a romantic scene between Sirius and some original female character, would you still consider the scene at the end of chapter 13 to be an “unnecessary dump”, as you so elegantly misspelled in all all capital letters? What really irks me is these characters aren’t even canonically straight. If I changed a character’s sexual orientation from their canon, it might be more understandable… sorta. But when I read the books and watched the movies, I always thought of Sirius Black as a gay character. And considering it’s estimated that 10% of the world’s population identifies themselves as gay or bisexual, then it seems likely that at least one person in a family of nine would be homosexual. I’m actually quite proud of my Sirius/Charlie match-up and the response I’ve received has, up until now, been so lovely and wonderful. So thank you to all you other reviewers for your kind words. And a special thanks to IrisMikaelson whose review specifically asked for “more romance and stuff between Charlie and Sirius from Sirius's point of view.” Her review was pretty much the only reason the second half of Chapter 13 was even written.
> 
> Sorry for the rant, but I do so enjoy getting out my frustrations with a review by writing a few hundred words about it. I went on a similar tirade on my Merlin fanfic You Could Miss It, when another anonymous reviewer basically called me racist for making Elyan a drug dealer. Ooh boy, did that make me angry. It’s not like these reviewers are going to see these author’s notes, because most likely they’ve stopped reading the story by now, but I post my tirades anyway to make myself feel better.
> 
> And now, I will give a shoutout to all my consistent reviewers who have made this whole experience awesome:
> 
> TheFearTakesHold  
> Sn2014
> 
> And over on ff.net:
> 
> Aqua and Luna  
> Ern Estine 13624  
> Piglett  
> Dulzura Letal  
> Yuutakeiamz  
> Fan-de-carlisle-cullen  
> Septumusromanseverus  
> Littllest1  
> BeholdTheMatatron1946  
> FireRuby  
> Cassandra30  
> Menthathial  
> Nikki Riddle  
> Erimenthe
> 
> Chocolate chip cookies for all of you! (if I could get them to you, I would)


	16. 1:16- Disappearing Draco

Harry woke up the day before winter holiday to find a bunch of gifts at the foot of his bed. It didn’t take long to open and pack all the sweets and books and toys from his Gryffindor friends that he wouldn’t see over Christmas break, and over the course of the day he would thank every single one of them and wish them a Happy Christmas. 

However, there was one present that was left anonymously that had Harry resorting to his terrible nervous habit of chewing his nails. It was wrapped in bright green paper, making it stand out immediately against the numerous golds and reds. The note attached only contained one simple sentence: Use it well.

Using one of the first spells he was ever taught by his Uncle Remus, Harry checked the package for any malevolent intent. Finding none, Harry hummed in consideration. It was very early in the morning, so all of his dormmates were still asleep. He should probably wait to open this particular gift until he talked to someone and asked their opinion. Sirius, Remus, or Steven. Or even Draco, although Harry was fairly certain Draco would just look at him strangely and ask, “What are you waiting for, you git?”

Harry scratched his eyebrow and pondered the gift once more. He could wait until he got home tomorrow. That’s not too long of a delay, surely. On the other hand…

Harry leapt from his bed and padded over to Neville’s, shaking his friend awake. “Nev, get up,” he hissed. “I need your help.”

“Nungh,” Neville groaned, flopping onto his back and almost elbowing Harry in the face. “Don’t make me go, Mum. Uncle Algie smells like fish.”

Harry snorted in amusement and Neville winked open an eyelid, sighing in relief. “Oh thank Merlin, it’s just you.”

“Yeah, just me,” Harry assured him.

Neville glanced out the window at the early dawn light and returned his attention to Harry, raising a confused eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Harry grimaced apologetically. “Sorry Nev. There’s this gift that I want to open and I need you to talk me out of it.”

“Just open it,” Neville groaned, rolling back over and throwing the blanket over his head.

“But I don’t know who it’s from. What if its something dangerous,” Harry hissed.

A sigh sounded from under the bed sheets and suddenly Neville’s sleepy face emerged once more. “Did you perform the revealing spell.”

“Yes and it was fine.”

“Go get it,” Neville ordered.

Harry skipped back to his bed, grabbed the package and returned to Neville’s four-poster flopping down beside him. Neville sat up, running a sleepy hand through his hair and yawned. He picked up the gift and eyed it from all angles, flipping it and shaking it like Harry has seen him do a thousand times as children. Harry, Draco, and Neville would always sneak down the stairs at the house in Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve and try to guess what their presents were going to be. It was tradition and Neville Longbottom eerily guessed right about eighty percent of the time.

Neville smirked down at the object and then handed it back to Harry with a shrug. “It’s an item of clothing.”

Harry frowned, a little disappointed by Neville’s prediction. “Oh.” Harry sighed and slipped a finger between the satin emerald paper, tearing it open to reveal a plane white box. He lifted the lid and he and Neville both peered down at the contents within. Whatever it was, it was right ugly.

“Merlin’s beard,” Neville exclaimed, touching the thin velvety brown fabric with undisguised disgust. Harry lifted the item form the box and held it out in front of him. “It’s a cloak.”

Harry frowned. “Why would someone get me a cloak that I wouldn’t wear in public if they paid me?”

“What did the note say?”

Harry shuffled through the paper and handed the short missive to Neville who read it quickly. “Use it well? Weird. Well put it on then. At least let me have a laugh since you woke me up so early.”

Harry snorted and stood up from the bed, wrapping the cloak around his shoulders with great exaggeration.

Neville gasped and jumped from his bed with sudden excitement. “Harry, you disappeared.”

“What?” Harry looked down and realized that he had indeed vanished, from his shoulders all the way to his feet. He looked back at his giddy best mate and grinned. “It’s an invisibility cloak!”

There was a snore from Seamus’s bed and Harry ducked on instinct, flushing a deep scarlet as he hid behind Neville’s bed. There was a long silence as the two boys waited in frozen states of shock for any indication that their dormmates had roused form their slumbers. Once Harry thought it was safe, he let out the breath he had been holding and chuckled, Neville joining in.

“That’s wicked,” Neville announced pointing at Harry’s still invisible lower half.

“Wow,” Harry marveled. “I can’t believe someone got this for me.”

“Yeah, someone who doesn’t even want your undying gratitude. That’s a little suspicious,” Neville murmured.

Harry removed the cloak and looked down at the horrible fabric with sudden distrust. “Why would someone do that? And these are expensive too, right Nev?”

“Mum says the DMLE has a whole section of their budget dedicated to just invisibility cloaks.”

Harry shook his head and eyed the cloak in consideration. “I’ll tell dad about it tomorrow when I get back home. He’ll let me know if I can keep it or not.”

Neville pouted but nodded his head in agreement. “He’ll probably let you though, right?”

Harry shrugged. It’s not like they’d had a situation like this that he could compare it to. “Maybe. But until then…” Harry looked up at Neville mischievously and his best mate rolled his eyes.

“Just leave me out of your plans,” Neville demanded, flopping back down onto his bed and rolling over.

“Fine,” Harry sulked, rolling up the cloak and stuffing it under one arm. “I’ll ask Draco.”

Neville chuckled. “I doubt you’ll need to ask. Show him that cloak and Draco Black will be the one convincing you of his plans.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, probably.”

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep even if he tried, Harry stuffed the cloak into his book bag and headed down the stairs to the common room, debating with himself about whether he should go find Draco now or not. But as he padded down the last step a familiar bushy head of hair sitting in the arm chair next to the fireplace made up Harry’s mind. Draco would have to wait.

“What are you doing up so early,” Harry asked as he flopped down onto the sofa across from Hermione.

The young witch smirked down at her book before marking her page with an index finger and looking over at Harry. “I could ask you the same question,” she replied primly.

“Would you believe me if I said I was studying for the HoM midterm?”

Hermione snorted. “Nope.”

“Well good, because I wasn’t doing that,” Harry stated with a playful shrug of his shoulders as he settled more comfortably into the sofa cushions.

Hermione shook her head in faux disappointment. “Harry Potter, what am I going to do with you?”

“You could help me revise right now,” Harry suggested grinning with all his teeth.

Hermione scoffed. “The exam is in four hours.”

“Exactly. Plenty of time to learn all I need to know about Goblin rebellions or whatever. That is what Binns is always droning on about, right?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but an affectionate smile still graced her lips. “Fine,” she sighed. She marked her page with a bookmark and placed it back in the bag at her feet, pulling out a large notebook that Harry could only assume was filled to the brim with useless facts. “I’ll quiz you.”

“Thanks Hermione.”

Hermione certainly made the subject of Goblins much more enjoyable to learn about than that dull ghost, Professor Binns. They revised for the next hour and then all through breakfast with Neville. Ron sat a few meters away listening to Hermione’s mini lessons the entire morning. Harry would have called him out on his eavesdropping, but thought better of it when he caught Hermione’s subtle shake of her head to warn him off of doing so. Harry quirked up an eyebrow and she just shrugged in response. Clearly she was tired of the bickering between Harry and Ron over the last two months. But Ron had yet to apologize to Hermione for his idiotic remarks and Harry was far too stubborn to just let it go. So he would continue to keep Ron at arm’s length until the redhead owned up to his prat-like behavior. Stupid git.

After the exam (which Harry thought he did fairly well on, actually) there was an impromptu snowball fight in the courtyard between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. While he watched in amusement as Hermione and Neville ganged up on poor little Hannah, someone managed to sneak up behind him and stuff a snowball down the back of his long winter cloak.

“Merlin’s pants!” Harry whipped around and managed to just catch the remnants of long auburn hair as it fled around a pillar. “Susan,” he muttered, cursing her name.

Harry sprinted after the girl who glanced over her shoulder a number of times with a cheeky grin on her face. Around the fourth peek, Harry watched as Susan slipped on the snow and went belly-up. When Harry caught up he stood over her body and stared down at her winded face. 

“You alright,” Harry asked, holding out a hand like he was going to help her up. Susan giggled and nodded her head, before reaching for his gloved hand with her own. Harry snapped his hand away quickly and smirked down at her. “Good,” he declared, with an impish grin.

Susan’s eyes widened considerably. “No Harry,” she pleaded. “I have Charms in half an hour.”

Harry’s grin grew wider as he pulled out his wand. “Should have thought about that before you started a war with me.” He aimed his wand at the tree above them reciting a spell they had just learned in Charms the week before. “Carpe Retractum.” An invisible rope sprung for his wand and secured itself around the tree branch. Harry took a step back and pulled the branch with him, forcing all the snow to fall onto the powerless Hufflepuff below it. Susan screamed and Harry laughed giddily.

Susan’s face emerged from the mound of snow as she sat up, spluttering obscenities that her aunt would be proud of. “I loathe you Harry Potter!”

Harry snorted. “No you don’t.”

Susan leapt to her feet and charged at Harry, tackling him to the ground with shrieks of frustration. Harry chuckled as the mad girl flung fistfuls of snow at his face in the midst of her proceeding diatribe. “You are— the worst person— I have ever met— and I’m taking— your christmas present— back, you git!”

Harry suddenly caught her wrists with both hands, and locked his his legs around her thighs before flipping them over so he was now the one on top. He grinned down at her. “You got me a gift?”

Susan rolled her eyes. “Of course I did, Harry. I was going to give it to you on your dad’s Boxing Day celebration, like always— wait! Did you not get me a gift?” Harry looked away sheepishly. “Harry!”

Harry snorted. “I’m just kidding. Of course I got you something Suze. Well… I got my Uncle Remus to get you something, since I was here at Hogwarts. But I told him what to get you.” Susan eyed him skeptically. “Really. I did.”

“Ok, I believe you… What is it?!” she asked excitedly

Harry rolled off of Susan and settled into the snow beside her. “I’m not telling you, obviously.”

Truth be told, Harry was a little nervous about the gift he was getting Susan Bones. Not because it wasn’t a great gift, but because it was pretty personal. He had to find a way to get her to open it when no one else was around. He’d have to talk to Remus about that.

Susan rolled onto her side and smiled happily. “So who else is coming for Boxing Day? Anyone new?”

“Well, obviously me, you, Draco, Neville, and Daphne. And this year I invited Hermione. She’s never seen a wizarding Christmas before. It took some convincing, but once I explained to her that we are celebrating the day after Christmas, she asked her parents if she could come. They said yes.

Susan smiled. “Great! This means we don’t have to play with Astoria in order to make things even. The exploding snap tournament is going to be awesome this year!”

Harry chuckled as Susan’s hair dripped water onto his face. “You’re sopping, Bones. And don’t you have Charms in half an hour,” Harry reminded her.

Susan groaned as she rose from the snowy ground. “I’ll see you on the train, Harry.”

“Good luck on your exam,” Harry called out to her retreating figure.

“Thanks,” she hollered over her shoulder just as she disappeared into the castle.

The Gryffindors returned to their tower victorious (although Harry figured they only won the snowball fight because more Hufflepuffs had to leave for their next class than Gryffindors did). By the time he had cleaned himself up and finished eating dinner with Neville and Hermione, Harry had resigned himself to the fact that this day had been far busier than he had anticipated. He was surely running out of time to show Draco his new invisibility cloak before winter holiday was upon them. There was no doubt that Draco was going to take the next three hours before curfew to pack so that left very little time to see him.

There was only one thing he could do. Harry had to sneak into the Slytherin dorms. Lucky thing that he had an invisibility cloak.

***

“How many chocolate frogs did you get?”

Draco stashed another box of the delicious amphibians into his trunk and grinned up at Theo. “Way more than I thought I would,” Draco answered. He was still slightly dumbstruck by the amount of gifts from his fellow Slytherins that he found at the foot his bed that morning. Of course, they were all chocolate frogs since these people hardly knew him, but Draco wasn’t going to knock down his favorite candy. They might have been poisoned though, so he was going to put off ingesting them until he had them tested.

Theo snatched the toy Quidditch player that Draco got him for Christmas out of the air and sent her shooting off toward the Quidditch player Theo got for Draco. They had both ordered their gifts to each other through owl post and it was total chance that they ordered similar items. “Do you think you can take Gwenog home with you? I don’t want my dad to find her.”

Draco looked over at the figurine of the famed Holyhead Harpies beater, Gwenog Jones, as she zoomed around the clearly annoyed version of the Appleby Arrows seeker, Gregory Cotton. “Sure,” Draco replied with shrug, trying for a sense of casualness that he didn’t really feel. Draco had gotten the impression over the past few months that Nott Sr. wasn’t the nicest of human beings, let alone fathers.

“Thanks,” Theo murmured with a resigned sigh. He flopped down onto his his bed and groaned in frustration. “I wish I was going to your Boxing Day thing!”

Draco breathed in deeply as he folded up another one of his robes into a perfect square and placed into his trunk. “Me too.”

Theo sighed again and hopped out of bed. “I’m going to go play some wizarding chess with Daph before bed. You want to join us?”

“Maybe later,” Draco replied.

“Alright.” Theo threw a wave over his shoulder and left the first year dorm room. Draco was now alone.

“Boo!”

Draco jumped out of his skin as he whirled around looking for the source of the exclamation. He scoured the room, but found nothing. “Hello?”

The sound of laughter came from right beside him and Draco lashed out, his fist coming into contact with an invisible force that yelled, “Ow, Draco stop that, you prat.”

The voice was familiar. “Harry?”

“Yeah, hold on.” There was the sound of shuffling until suddenly the floating head of Harry Potter appeared in front of him. His brother grinned over at him. “Wicked, right?”

Draco could only stare in utter shock at the disembodied head before him. “How— what?”

“Someone got me an invisibility cloak for Christmas,” Harry explained, and strangely enough that was the only explanation Draco really needed. It clarified everything. “So…” Harry began coyly. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Draco’s blank expression went from confused to thoughtful to scheming in a matter of seconds. “Oh Merlin. So, so much,” Draco whispered in quiet elation.

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. “Which do you want to do first?”

Draco gasped as idea after idea sprung to mind. “I’ve always wanted to find out what was on the forbidden third floor— no wait! There’s a rumor that Snape has the only portrait of Merlin in a secret room connected to his office. It’s definitely bollocks but rumors always have some semblance of fact to them. I bet there really is a secret room— Oh no, wait! Scratch all that! I was in the kitchens a few weeks ago and the house-elves told me about this room that has everything that has ever gone missing here in Hogwarts. The marauder’s map definitely has to be there—“

“Whoa, slow down,” Harry interrupted, grinning fondly. “Think about it while you finish packing first and I’ll meet you by the potion’s classroom after curfew.”

“You want me to sneak out,” Draco inquired with false incredulity.

Harry glanced over at him imploringly. “Like this will be your first time doing that,” Harry chastised.

Draco smirked. “Fine. Go.”  
Harry flipped the cloak back over his head and slipped through the open door to Draco’s room and down the stairs to the Slytherin common room. Draco stared at the blank opening for a long while as he let the events of the last minute pierce his brain. When it finally settled comfortably amongst his nerves, Draco slowly grinned, before stooping down and tossing the rest of his wardrobe into his trunk haphazardly. He ordered Jones and Cotton into the pocket of one of his stowed trousers and made a beeline for the toilet, gathering all his belongings except for his toothbrush which he would need in the morning. Once he had his toiletries packed into the trunk as well, he searched the room for anything else he might have missed. Finding nothing, he closed up his trunk and locked it, placing it at the end of his four-poster.

His enthusiasm was evident as he paced the length of his bed numerous times. He knew that if he left the solitude of his dormitory everyone (meaning Daphne and Theo) would be wondering why he was acting all fidgety so Draco tumbled into his unmade bed and pulled one of the books that he was leaving behind from the drawer in his nightstand. He then pulled the hunter green curtains around his bed and readied himself for a truly tedious hour before curfew.

When he heard the steady rhythm of Theo’s snores and the ridiculously obnoxious roars of Crabbe and Goyle’s, Draco flipped the comforter off his body and snuck out through the drapes. He slipped on a pair of oxfords and padded down the stairs and out the secret passageway. Careful to stick to the shadows and hiding his bright blond hair with the hood of his robes, Draco made his way toward Snape’s classroom checking for any sign of a wandering prefect or a nosy cat. Once the potion’s lab was in sight, Draco sighed a breath of relief that was instantly cut off by a gasp when an invisible hand brushed his shoulder.

“Bloody hell,” Draco cursed under his breath as he forced his heartbeat to return to normal.

“Did you forget about the invisibility cloak,” asked the disembodied voice of his brother.

“No, but you could make your presence known by, I don’t know… saying ‘Hi’ or something,” Draco prompted. “Git.”

“Prat,” Harry replied easily, and suddenly Draco was engulfed in cloth.

“Wow,” Draco exclaimed once he was settled comfortably under the invisibility cloak next to Harry. “This fabric is fascinating.”

“Nerd,” Harry insulted, coughing into his hand.

“Oh what, like you aren’t interested in the magic behind invisibility cloaks,” Draco mocked.

“I stand by what I coughed into my fist, Draco. Now where to?”

Draco rolled his eyes but answered, “We should start at the top of the castle and work our way back down.”

“And what’s at the top of the castle,” Harry whispered as the two made their way to the ground floor.

“That’s where the room is, the one I was telling you about. The house-elves say it’s on the seventh floor. They call it the Room of Hidden Things.”

“And why did they tell you about this room?”  
“I told them I lost something. Now explain to me why someone got you an invisibility cloak for Christmas,” Draco replied changing the subject. It was a long walk up to the seventh floor no matter how many shortcuts Draco had managed to find over the last couple months.

“I don’t know. It was sent anonymously with only a short message that said, “Use it well.”

“Weird.”

“That’s what Neville said.”

“Wait! Neville knows about the cloak?”

“It was an anonymous gift,” Harry defended. “I had him use his special gift-guessing talents before I opened it. Just it case.”

“No one else knows though, right?”

“No. No one else knows. But I am going to show it to Dad when we get home.”  
Draco halted in his tracks and stared incredulously over at Harry in the dim light of the torches that lined the wall. “Why?”

“Because someone sent me a weird present, Draco. I’m not just going to let it go. Dad will let me know if it’s safe to continue using.”

Draco narrowed his eyes but had to admit his brother had a point. He sighed. “Do you think he’ll take it from you,” Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. We are talking about the infamous prankster that is Sirius Black though. I’m sure he’ll see the merit of having an invisibility cloak. Besides, he knows we’re trustworthy. It’s not like we’re going to use it for nefarious reasons.”

Draco scratched his eyebrow and looked at Harry out of the corner of his eyes. “Fine, but we don’t tell him about tonight.”

“Duh.”

Draco snorted and they both continued up the stairs. It wasn’t long before they reached the fifth floor and that’s when Draco heard voices. He pulled Harry against the wall and held a finger to his lips. The voices were getting louder.

“There must be something wrong—“

“It’s never been faulty before—“

“But there’s no one here Fred—“

“I can see that George— Give me that.”

There was a shuffling of paper and then one of the twins incanted “Lumos.”

From a little further down the corridor Draco watched as the two redheads were illuminated by the wand light, but the blonde was far more interested in what George held in his hands.

Fred shined his wand over the parchment and squinted down at whatever words were written there. He then looked up at exactly where Draco and Harry were standing, and Draco knew. This was the map he had been looking for.

When the twins’ attentions returned to the map, Draco ducked under the cloak without thinking, his brother’s grasp on his wrist slipping, and strode toward the Gryffindor pair. “Hey,” he shouted.

He could practically feel the exasperation from Harry’s direction, but it was already too late. Fred and George looked up from the map with wide eyes.

“Where did you come from,” asked Fred, while George folded up the map quickly and tapped it with his wand.

Draco snatched the map from a smug looking George and twisted around to look in Harry’s direction. “This is it,” Draco hissed into the void.

“What,” came Harry’s voice. Harry flung the cloak over his head and bunched it up under his robes as he stepped toward Draco, looking down at the piece of parchment. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s the map,” Draco said, taking out his wand. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he recited before tapping the piece of parchment.

“Whoa whoa, wait a second,” George intervened.

“How did you know that,” Fred asked.

Draco ignored them as the words he’d been waiting his whole life for appeared on the page. “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present The Marauder’s Map,” Draco read aloud. “Found you,” he gushed.

One of the twins (Draco had lost track of which was which by now) plucked the map back from Draco and glared down at the two first years from his not so inconsiderable height. “I’ll ask again, how did you know that?” Ah, so this was Fred.

Draco put his hands on his hips refusing to be condescended to. “How do you know how this map works?”

George tilted his head in contemplation. “When we nicked it off Filch our first year, we thought it was just a piece of insulting paper, but we realized pretty quickly that we could communicate with it. We told Padfoot and Prongs about ourselves and they deemed us worthy of being the new owners of the Marauder’s Map.”

Draco blinked. Oh, well great. I got here two years too late. The map already has new owners. Draco sighed and looked over at Harry in commiseration who grimaced sadly.

“Are you going to answer my question,” Fred asked with little bit of amusement in his tone.

“Padfoot’s my dad,” Draco answered.

“Prongs was mine,” Harry added.

Fred and George smiled wide with excitement. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Your dads created this map?”

Draco and Harry nodded. Draco was a little upset that the time had already passed before he could make an “Am I serious? Why, serious is my middle name!” joke, but moved on quickly.

“That’s brilliant,” Fred cheered happily. “Perhaps you can help explain a couple things.”

George looked down at the map. “Actually we need to find a place to hide. Filch is on his way up to the fifth floor.”

Draco shared a glance with Harry who shook his head. The invisibility cloak was not large enough to cover them all.

“Come on, this way,” Fred encouraged and led the way up to the sixth floor and into an alcove hidden behind a suit of armor. It was pretty roomy and the four of them settled in close as they searched the map for Filch’s name.

“There,” Harry said, pointing to the third floor. “Peeves is wreaking havoc in the trophy room which just emerged back on the third floor instead of the sixth. Filch will be occupied for a while.”

There were four sighs of relief as they sagged against the stone wall of the small alcove. “Wait, where’s Mrs. Norris,” Draco asked. “Bloody menace that cat is,” he muttered as he searched the map for the damn thing.

“She’s in the dungeons,” George said pointing at her name located just outside the potion’s classroom. “And that’s a good place to start as any, right Fred?”

“Yeah, so Mrs. Norris shows up on the map, but not all animals do. Do either of you know why that is?”

Draco and Harry looked at each other in question, before they both shrugged. “No idea,” Draco answered.

“Maybe because she has a name,” Harry prompted.

Fred’s eyes lit up. “Makes sense.”

“We’ll have to name a cricket and see if it shows up to test this theory,” George noted.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Draco interrupted. “You’ve had this map for two years? Did you ever notice Peter Pettigrew? He was your brother’s pet rat, right?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Fred cleared his throat. “We, uh— well we looked into that immediately. We considered that perhaps the map didn’t show the names of people when they were in their animagus from but—“

“That was quickly disproved when we followed McGonagall around in her cat form,” George finished.

“Besides, the map was made by four animagus,” Harry pointed out, “Peter Pettigrew being one of them.”

It was almost as if Fred and George synchronized their twin gapes. “What?!”

“Wormtail.” The one word explanation from Draco was all that was needed.

“Merlin,” George gasped, staring down at the map like he was seeing it for the first time.

“Well did you ever figure out why you didn’t see him on the map,” Draco asked, trying to bring the twins back around to the original question.

Fred joggled his head as he returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Right, yeah, I think we did.”

“Here,” George said, handing the map to Harry. “See our names right there?”

Harry nodded.

Fred strode over to Draco and scooped him off the ground with surprising swiftness. “Hey!”

“Draco you disappeared,” Harry marveled.

Draco stopped fighting to get out of the third year’s arms. “Really?”

Fred returned Draco to his feet. “The map has an odd flaw that I’m guessing even the creators didn’t know about. If the person is more than a meter off the ground, they disappear from the map. Scabbers—“

“Peter Pettigrew,” George interrupted, “was always in Percy’s pocket or perched on his nightstand.”

“And if he wasn’t, we weren’t paying attention,” Fred continued with a look of chagrin.

“Hey, look at the forbidden corridor on the third floor,” Harry demanded of Draco, changing the subject as only Harry Potter could do. Harry pointed to that area on the map. “Who’s Fluffy, I wonder.”

“No need to wonder,” George said, puffing out his chest a bit.

“It’s a three-headed dog,” Fred explained.

Draco blinked. He shared a bemused glance with Harry who exclaimed, “There’s a cerberus just sitting in the middle of our school?”

“Someone named a cerberus Fluffy,” Draco added with equal disbelief.

“Yeah, we aren’t sure why it’s there—“

“But we’ve been keeping an eye on that area since Halloween.”

Draco looked up from the map. “Halloween? Why?”

“Well, we were trying to find Harry, weren’t we?”

“He hadn’t returned to the dormitories with the rest of the Gryffindors—

“Percy was practically pulling out his hair—

“We got worried—”

“So we escaped to our dorm room and George pulled out the map, searching for Harry’s name.”

“But during our search we noticed one of the professors on the third floor when he was supposed to be in the dungeons looking for the troll.”

“There must be something on that floor besides Fluffy—“

“Wait,” Draco interrupted.

“Yeah, hold up. Which professor,” Harry asked.

Fred and George exchanged glances. Fred spoke up first. “Snape was there for a long while—“

“Yeah, he was pacing in front of the door to Fluffy’s room. He even went into the room for a second—“

“But he left fairly quickly.”

“Once Snape left the area, then Quirrell showed up taking a similar position just outside the room Fluffy was located. It almost seemed like a changing of the guards.”

“Curious right? When Quirrell’s dot remained the same, we decided to follow Snape again, until he reached the first floor and ran into you two, your girlfriends, and your dad.”

“We’ve been meaning to ask what happened almost as soon as you returned to the tower Harry—“

“But we couldn’t figure out a way to broach the subject without giving away our secret.”

“Yeah, but now that you know we have the map…” 

George spread out his hands in askance. “What happened?”

Draco’s thoughts were far too consumed with the mysterious third floor and the two professors who guarded the corridor on Halloween to answer, so he let Harry assume the role of storyteller. Instead his eyes roamed over the map in search of… well, he wasn’t sure. His gaze landed on Snape’s office and realized something. “Hey,” Draco called, interjecting on Harry’s well-told story. Three sets of eyes, two blue and one green, landed on him. “Do you know where Snape’s chambers are?”

Fred shook his head. “No, we actually asked Prongs about that.”

“It was one of the only questions that the creators seemed to know the answer to.”

“Yeah, apparently they were never able to find any of the staff’s living quarters.”

“We’ve been trying to find them ourselves, but—“

“No luck.”

“Hmm,” Draco muttered returning his attention to the map. “Well then, carry on with your story Harry.”

The rest of the night continued in much the same manner, with the twins asking questions that Draco and Harry did their best to answer and vice-versa. Later, the four of them went in search of the Room of Hidden Things, but never found it. The twins, who were remaining at the school over the holidays since their parents were visiting their older brother in Egypt, promised that they would keep looking for the room and show Harry and Draco when they returned to Hogwarts. Harry revealed to Fred and George his invisibility cloak, and it went to show how comfortable Draco now was with the two third years that he didn’t object. Fred and George were completely captivated by the object and offered Harry and Draco the map whenever they wanted to use it.

“We’d just give it to you, since it’s basically a family heirloom, but—“

“No that’s ok, we get it,” Draco interrupted with an easy grin. Now that he knew the map was in the hands of two fine tricksters, he no longer felt the need to keep it for himself. The map his father built was safe and that was all that mattered. The three Gryffindors were escorting Draco back to the dungeons, George keeping his eyes on the map to make certain they didn’t run into Filch, Mrs. Norris, or Peeves so early in the morning. “Besides,” Draco continued, “if we had the map, Harry would feel the need to tell our dad about it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I would not,” he defended.

Draco looked over his shoulder with a raised brow. “You are the worst liar. You’d never be able to keep a secret like that in.”

“Hey,” Harry objected. “I’ll have you know that I can keep a secret just fine, thank you.”

“Oh really. You’ve had that cloak for a day and already you’ve told four people about it. I’m surprised you didn’t blab about it’s existence to half the school by now— ow!”

Harry returned his fist to his side. “Serves you right,” he announced pompously.

“Who was the fourth,” Fred asked.

“I bet it was Hermione.”

Harry looked over at the twins with confusion in his eyes. “Why would you think that?” Fred and George exchanged amused and telling grins. “Oh,” Harry snorted. “Right, I thought I heard you correctly earlier. Hermione is not my girlfriend, by the way.”

“And Daphne is not mine,” Draco added.

George smirked. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

“First Hogsmeade trip, I’m betting,” Fred quipped.

“That’s how long it took you to ask out Angelina,” George returned.

“Only because you wouldn’t,” Fred declared.

“Hey, I don’t like her that way!”

“Sure you don’t,” Fred proclaimed sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Draco, who snorted.

“I don’t how many times I have to say that—“

“Maybe until it sounds convincing,” Fred interrupted. “I am your brother, you know? I can tell when you fancy someone.”

Draco looked over at his own brother. He had to admit, he was a little shocked Harry didn’t tell Hermione about the cloak. Draco was pretty certain Harry fancied his fellow Gryffindor something fierce. All the evidence he needed was the way he still treated Ron. Then again, Draco was also furious with the weasel. Did that mean he liked Granger, too?

Draco rolled his eyes at himself as he reached the stretch of wall that hid the Slytherin dorms. 

Stupid hormones.

***

Severus heaved an irritated sigh as he stared at the fireplace in his Hogwarts chambers. It had been a supremely long week and he really had no desire to interact with a crowd of Friday-night drunks at The Three Broomstick, even while in his Steven Prince disguise. Unfortunately, the pub was where Sirius and Remus told him to meet them and he just didn’t have the energy to decline the invitation.

Severus tossed in a handful of floo powder and stepped into the flames, calling out The Three Broomsticks’s address. After a short bout of dizziness, he arrived at his destination and rubbed his eyes tiredly as he looked around the busy pub. 

At least the crowd might mean the owner might not be the one to take his drink order. He had to hope.

“There he is,” Sirius announced and Remus turned around to wave him to the corner booth. Severus made his way over, huffing a sigh as he settled into the spot next to Sirius.

“What are we doing here,” Severus asked, his usual deep baritone replaced with the higher-pitched tenor of his alter-ego. It didn’t have the same annoyed edge, but Sirius and Remus were quick to pick up on his mood anyhow.

“I know you have private matters to discuss with us Sev,” Remus said after he cast a quick muffliato charm over their booth, “but Sirius is playing his hand at spy.”

Severus snorted with amusement despite his sour disposition. “And who, pray tell, is the target of this wee bit of espionage?”

“On your ten,” Sirius indicated, adding an unnecessary tilt of his head in that direction as if Severus didn’t know what he meant. Sev looked over at Remus who rolled his eyes, before complying with Black’s wishes and subtly glancing over to his left.

“Which one,” Severus inquired.

“Tall, dark, and handsome at the bar,” Sirius answered.

Momentarily distracted by a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair behind the counter, Snape returned his focus to the man in question. “Alright then. Who is he and what’d he do?”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt,” Remus answered. “I think you managed to teach him just before he left Hogwarts.” Severus nodded. “Well, Sirius seems to think Tonks fancy’s him.”

Severus groaned and rubbed his head. “So what?”

“So what?!” Sirius shook his head in dismay. “We don’t know anything about him, Snape. What if he’s secretly into killing puppies or something? I need to know these things before he can start snogging my baby cousin.”

“She’s not much of a baby anymore,” Snape muttered and before Sirius’s hackles could rise, quickly added, “Besides, if I remember correctly, Kingsley is a very trusted auror and his brother Zander has been a welcome member of the Wizengamot, correct?”

Sirius hummed in agreement but continued to scowl in Kingsley’s direction. “It was just so much easier when she only had eyes for Moony,” Sirius finally murmured in exasperation.

“I, for one, am ecstatic,” Remus announced.

“And I, for one, think we need to discuss something important now,” Severus chimed in. “Like what I came here to tell you.”

Sirius finally looked away from the younger Shacklebolt brother and focused his attention on Severus. “Right, go on Sev. What do you have to tell us?”

Snape took a deep breath and decided to just state it bluntly. “It’s the sorcerer’s stone.”

Remus and Sirius stared blankly at Snape for several agonizing seconds. “What?”

“Yeah, what,” Sirius repeated with a hiss.

“That is what Dumbledore is hiding in the school under a trap door guarded by a three-headed beast named Fluffy,” Snape explained.

“Are you serious,” Remus exclaimed, and for once Sirius didn’t feel the need to acknowledge the obvious pun for he remained quiet as Severus watched the wheels turned behind his irises.

“Yes, I’m very serious. Dumbledore had a meeting with all the staff yesterday evening after curfew and explained what lay beneath the floorboards of our school. He then asked each of us to provide an extra line of security for the stone, so we all took an hour today to lay the groundwork for our layer of protection. Of course, I already finished mine, but that’s probably because I used very little magic.”

“What did you do,” Remus asked.

Severus smiled for the first time in a long while as he thought over his defensive measure with fondness. “A puzzle. One that I very much doubt Quirrell has the mental capacity to solve.”

“But what if it’s not Quirrell,” Sirius questioned.

“It doesn’t matter,” Severus replied, suddenly scowling when he thought of the very telling conversation he had with Albus a few hours earlier. “I’m getting the feeling that the plan isn’t to keep the thief from the stone, but to force whoever the fool is into a trap of Albus’s making. He told me earlier that he would also be adding a layer of security over the holiday break and I have no doubt it will be unbeatable.”

“So you believe Albus means to catch Voldemort’s accomplice?” Severus nodded his head in answer to Remus’s question. “And then what?”

“I don’t know. I can only assume to track down Voldemort himself before he can return to power and cause a panic, evoking the second war between him and everyone else in less than two decades.”

There was a long silence as Severus let Remus and Sirius ponder this, only broken when Sirius finally let out a defeated, “He really has gone mad, hasn’t he?”

Assuming he meant Albus Dumbledore, Snape nodded his head in answer. “I actually don’t believe it’s that awful of a plan if only the trap were set somewhere other than a castle full of minors.”

“But it is the best lure,” Remus reminded them. Severus and Sirius growled at the same time and Lupin held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I don’t much like it either, but I’m just saying that Hogwarts was the only home Tom Riddle ever had. It must drive him mad to know that something that could bring him back to full power is located in a home he can never return to. Dumbledore has basically guaranteed that Riddle will do everything in his power to get to the stone, just out of spite.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Sirius grumbled, his voice a low guttural noise that escaped from the back of his throat. There was clearly much that Sirius disliked about Remus’s statement. Perhaps it was the unintentional comparison to Voldemort. Severus knew by now that Hogwarts was the only home Sirius ever really knew before becoming Draco’s father. And he knew this fact because Severus felt the same way about the ancient castle and the two of them had discussed this shared commonality on many occasion. Sirius always mused about how things could have been different if he knew Snape’s home-life was just as awful as his own. Perhaps they could have been friends a lot sooner.

“Apologies for the wait,” came the soft melodic voice of the pub owner from behind Severus. “Here you boys go.” A plate of nachos appeared in the middle of the table and Severus watched as Remus silently ended the muffliato spell.

“You are a wonder,” Sirius declared as he grabbed his glass of butterbeer from the woman’s outstretched hand, obviously grateful for the distraction that meant the three of them could cease this dreadful discussion for the time being. “What do you say, Rosie. Marry me?”

The tinkling sound of Rosmerta Ogden’s giggles had Severus pointlessly jealous. He knew it was just a bit of harmless flirting, but suddenly Snape felt the urge to lift his head and blurt out that Sirius was already otherwise engaged to a certain redhead. Thankfully Remus beat him to that particular statement and it came off far more jokingly than Severus could have managed at the moment.

“I do believe Charlie would murder you in cold blood, Sirius,” Remus laughed, grabbing his own butterbeer. Rosie’s back was now to Sirius and Severus, so he felt it was safe to sneak a glance at the gorgeous innkeeper. He was itching to leave before she noticed him, but found that he couldn’t move a muscle. “Now me, on other hand, am available for marriage.”

Well, this is much worse, Severus declared, silently losing his mind. Remus Lupin has been woefully unattached for countless years. What can I possibly say to make him seem less appealing?

“That’s sweet, Remus, really, but I’m going to have to decline,” Rosie quipped. Severus caught the start of her winning smile before returning his face to its hidden position behind his floppy Steven Prince hair.

Remus banged the table with his fist in faux disappointment. “Curse it all. Will anyone ever win the heart of the lovely Rosmerta Ogden?”

“Oh, well…” Rosie cleared her throat timidly. “I’d like to think he’s out there… somewhere. I’m just waiting for him to come back.”

Back?

“Back,” Sirius asked, ever the one to voice Snape’s thoughts aloud.

“I— oh!”

Severus lifted his head at the sudden outburst only to find himself looking directly into a pair of glacier-colored eyes. Slowly, Severus felt his lips turn up into a grin. “Hello Rosie,” Severus greeted.

There was a flash of something in her eyes that Severus couldn’t determine— perhaps, confusion?— before it disappeared and she smiled back. “Steven… I— I didn’t know you were back.”

Snape could practically feel the twin expressions of amusement from Remus and Sirius as they witnessed the scene before them, but decided it would be best if he just ignored them, pretend they didn’t exist for a few blissful moments. “Oh yes, um— I came back last week,” Snape lied.

“Where were you again— was it Japan?”

Sev nodded his head. As part of his alias as Steven Prince, he told others that his occupation involved traveling the world, hunting down rare magical plants and animals that could be used in certain experimental potions. It was something Severus knew a lot about and had actually dreamed of doing before Voldemort placed him in Hogwarts as his spy.

“Well I can’t wait to hear all about it,” Rosie enthused. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe last time you told me of a battle with a Peruvian Vipertooth in the mountains of South America while you tracked down its baby teeth. I’m excited to learn what dangerous creature you encountered this time.”

Severus held back a smile and breathed out a incredulous bout of laughter. “You do know I make all those stories up, right?”

Rosmerta grinned widely. “Oh I know. That doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing them.” 

Severus and Rosmerta smiled at each other for a long time, until a cough sounded from Severus’s right. Oh yeah. Sirius and Remus are here.

Rosie turned her attention to a delighted Sirius Black with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh I’m sorry,” Rosmerta said through a smile that showed off all her perfect white teeth. “I didn’t realize that you all knew each other.”

“Oh me and Steven go way back—”

“Steven and I,” Rosie and Severus corrected at the same time, which only lead to Black grinning wider and Snape inwardly groaning.

“Right. Yeah, Steven and I have been mates for— Merlin, almost thirteen years now.”

Another flash of something Severus couldn’t quite make out— maybe, disappointment— was gone seconds later, and Rosie returned to her usual pleasant demeanor. “Oh. Well, that’s nice. Do you want me to bring you your usual, Steven,” she asked Severus.

“Oh actually, I have to leave soon, so…”

“Ok. Well, holler if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Remus replied, but she had already sped off before she could possibly have heard Lupin’s words.

Severus stared after her retreating figure until it disappeared into the kitchens wondering what made her leave so quickly.

“This. Is. The happiest day of my life,” Sirius declared. And with that, Severus’s smile vanished completely.

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s right,” Severus said, finally looking over at Sirius, staring right into his colorless eyes. “I said ‘No.’”

“But— but,” Sirius spluttered. “You clearly fancy her. And I think she fancies you b—“

“No.” His voice was cold, even in the uniquely soft tenor of Steven Prince. “No, Sirius. Don’t.”

In a rare moment of humility, Sirius clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes asked the questions he didn’t voice aloud.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Severus announced, rising from his seat. He needed to get out of there and with out waiting for a goodbye, he left the inn, the confused and hurt expressions of Sirius and Remus haunting him as he walked the streets of Hogsmeade until the polyjuice wore off.

It’s better this way. They aren’t taking this seriously. Not like I am.

***

“I— I don’t understand,” Sirius mumbled, and Remus found himself nodding in agreement.

But that was false. Because Remus was fairly certain he did understand. But he also realized that he had had quite enough of this moody Severus Snape that had been gracing their presence as of late. Ever since Halloween, Snape had been surly and snappish and Remus thought his friend would have grown out of it by now, but he hadn’t. No more space. It was time for Remus to return to his role as the mother hen and fix things.

Remus rose from his seat. “I’m going to go find him.”

Sirius actually sighed a breath of relief. “Thank Merlin. Please bring him back, Moony. I miss him.”

Remus nodded. “I’ll try.”

Once he was clear of the inn, Remus balanced his wand on the palm of his hand and used a variation of the four-point spell that would lead him to anyone he was looking for as long as they were still in the vicinity. As of right now, Remus was the only one who could use the improved spell with any sense of accuracy, because the spell was created to use his naturally-heightened sense of smell to track the person he was looking for. Remus was currently trying to teach Sirius, but fellow Gryffindor’s sense of smell wasn’t great when he was in his human form.

His wand twitched around in his hand until it stopped, pointing due east. Severus was still in Hogsmeade.

Remus followed his wand’s direction for a few blocks before he saw him. Slowing down he crept up onto his friend and only when he was within striking distance did he shout, “Hey!”

Severus froze in his tracks and spun slowly on his heels until he faced Remus dead on. Severus sighed. “What?”

“Where are you going,” Remus asked.

“I was just waiting for the polyjuice to wear off but I think I’m done waiting,” Snape replied before taking out his wand and spinning around like he was about to apparate. When he didn’t disappear from the abandoned street at this late-night hour, he froze to the spot. “Did you really put up an anti-apparition ward,” Severus marveled.

“Were you really just about to disapparate away from me.” Remus countered, shaking his head with dismay.

Snape was still himself enough to look embarrassed. “What do you want, Lupin?”

“Alright, where to start,” Remus mused, as he leaned against a nearby storefront. He had warded the whole block to keep anybody from wandering by and overhearing their conversation. “How about, let’s start with something easy. Do you fancy her?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “That’s hardly important right now—“

“Why isn’t this important? In relevance to what?”

Severus scoffed. “You know what?”

“Answer the question Severus,” Remus demanded, folding his arms. “Do you fancy her?”

“Fine, yes. Yes I do, but—“

“No, no. No buts,” Remus interrupted and for once in Severus’s goddamn life, he shut his mouth and let Remus continue with his questions. “Now, how long have you liked the beautiful Rosmerta Ogden?”

“It’s not like I’m some kind of special case. Everyone was in love with Rosie during school. For Merlin’s sake even Sirius Black would have married her in a heartbeat if she had given him the time of day.”

“Well have you ever tried asking her out?”

“AS WHO?!”

Remus started at the sudden outburst.

“Who am I supposed to ask her out as? Hmm? Steven Prince? A man for all intents and purposes doesn’t actually exist. Or should I do it as Severus Snape, who lives this sort of half-life as he waits for his master’s return? I would put her in an insurmountable level of danger just by associating with her.”

There was a long bout of silence, the only sound being the heavy pants of Severus’s after his very telling outburst.

“Alright,” Remus began, removing himself from the wall and striding toward Snape with purpose. “First of all, Steven Prince does exist. Steven has friends and family who care about him deeply. Because underneath the fake name, and the false face, and the bogus backstory, is still Severus Snape. He’s not some disguise anymore. You are him. And then you say Severus Snape is living a half-life? As far as I can tell, you’re living two lives. You’re twice the man people think you are, not half! So stop thinking that.”

“You don’t understand how much risk I put her in—“

“I don’t understand? Really? You’re saying that to me,” Remus asked incredulously. “If anyone understands not wanting to put someone they love at unnecessary risk, it’s me.”

Severus looked up at Remus with wide comprehending eyes. Sometimes his friends forgot he was a werewolf. “That’s different—“

“How is it different,” Remus inquired. 

“Because you didn’t choose to be a monster!” 

Snape snapped his head away, but Remus already saw his eyes that betrayed his hidden feelings. They were dark with self-loathing.

“Sev—“

“No.” Severus looked down at the ground, unable to meet Remus’s gaze as he said his next words. “I begged him, Lupin. I went to his side and pleaded with him to mark me. I wanted it.”

Remus took a deep breath and readied himself for a speech like no other. “Wanted. Do hear the past tense? ‘Cause I do! The boy who begged to be marked like cattle… that boy is gone. Are you listening? I didn’t even know that version of Severus Snape. See, the Severus Snape I know looked into the eyes of a frightened woman and planned her escape from Malfoy Manor. The Severus Snape I know saved my best friend from the clutches of his demented cousin, and then later he saved Sirius from himself, because in another life Sirius would have gone after Peter. We both know it. The Severus Snape I know has been a wonderful Godfather to two very lucky children. And Draco and Harry, are amazing kids, Sev. And that has a lot to do with you. The Severus Snape I know has taught over a thousand children and has counseled any Slytherin who asked for his advice. The Severus Snape I know spent any spare time he had perfecting the wolfsbane potion so that I didn’t have to go through insurmountable pain and lock myself up in a basement for fear of hurting innocent lives once a month. The Severus Snape I know has eaten countless dinners, went on numerous family vacations, and has done everything in his power to make up for his past. Fourteen years ago, Sev, and you’re still punishing yourself for something you did as a child. Forgive yourself, Severus. Because Sirius forgave you the moment you saved Narcissa. And I forgave you the moment I walked into that house in Godric’s Hollow and you were sitting on the sofa holding Harry Potter like he was the most precious thing in the whole world.

“Now, if you don’t want to bring Rosie into this, I understand. And Sirius will understand as well. Do you think he doesn’t consider obliviating Charlie every single day? Because I assure you, he does. But something stops him from doing it. And I think that something is, he wants to live. You’ve been acting oddly for the past few months, and I’m not sure if it’s because you’ve been overworked, or because you found out Voldemort has finally returned in some form or another, or if you’re just scared for the wellbeing of this family you’ve created for yourself, but I fear that you’ve written yourself off. That at the end of this next encounter with Voldemort, you’ve decided you’re not going to survive. Am I right?”

Throughout the speech, Severus was an immovable force, like someone had performed a full body-binding curse on him. The only indication that Snape was even listening were the minuscule twitches of his eyebrows.

“He won’t let me survive,” Severus finally answered, his voice barely above a whisper, but Remus still heard every chilling word. “It was a wonder that I that I lasted through the first war, Remus. And I’m just— there’s too many people that I care about now. Not just you and Sirius and Draco and Harry. But Tonks and Charlie and the Greengrasses and the Longbottoms and everyone who will be in attendance at the first Order of the Dragon meeting tomorrow and that snot-nosed second year Hufflepuff and I— I can’t, Remus. It’s too much. I’m constantly worried about everybody. I refuse to add another person to that list.” Severus heaved a huge sigh and Remus waited close-lipped for him to continue. “It’s the complete opposite of how I was fourteen years ago when I took the mark. I cared so little for anybody back then. And I’m afraid, when he returns, this bloody compassion will cut through the mask and he will notice. And then you will all be in danger.”

“So what’s your plan then? The minute he suspects, you’ll throw yourself on the sword rather than put us at risk,” Remus asked plainly. 

“If I have to—“

“Well sorry to burst your self-sacrificing bubble, Snape, but that’s not going to bloody well happen,” Remus cut in, holding up a hand when Severus tried to object. “You say Voldemort won’t let you survive. Well I’m not going to let you die. How about that? That murdering psychopath can try his hardest, but I already decided long ago that I’m not losing anybody else that I love. And fuck it, Sev. I love you. You and Sirius are my brothers. Family. Always. When you step into the lion’s den, you can be certain that I will be one step behind, watching your back. And if you’re wondering where Sirius is in this situation, he’s already one step in front of you, clearing your path. We love you Severus Snape, no matter what name you go by or face you wear. I mean, for Merlin’s sake, man. Sirius spent one Boxing Day ten years ago where he couldn’t remember your face and now we celebrate every Boxing Day like it’s another Christmas. You can pretend that you’re dying for us. But instead, we would much rather you live for us… Please.”

A heartbeat later, Remus was engulfed in the arms of Severus Snape, the Severus Snape with the obsidian eyes and the jet-black hair. The Polyjuice had worn off.

“Fine.”

That was all Severus said, but that was enough for Remus as he hugged his best mate back, breathing a sigh of relief.

“And if you ever disappear on me again, I will hunt you down and punch you in the face,” Remus muttered into Severus’s ear.

Severus only chuckled and squeezed tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- The reviews on my last chapter were lovely. Thank you ever so much. So here’s to you: a supercharged thank you chapter that is over 10,000 words and told from four different points of view. It was loads of fun to write and I hope it was just as fun to read. 
> 
> The next chapter was actually written in its entirety around the same time I wrote chapter 11. All this other stuff was never meant to be written at all, but someone always managed to leave me a review that sparked an idea for another chapter. And I don’t regret writing them one bit. In fact, please continue to leave reviews. I love it when they inspire me. It’s incredible to see my word count sky rocket. This fic was only ever supposed to be around 100,000 words. And now it’s practically 100,000 words and I’ve only reached about half-way through Draco and Harry’s first year! DSB is turning into an epic and I’m having so much fun writing it that I’ve hardly noticed. I always wondered how some of these fanfiction authors manage to write so much, and now I know it’s because they must really enjoy it. I know I do.
> 
> Fancasts:  
> Rosmerta Ogden- Amy Adams


	17. 1:17- Why Draco

“Are you sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

Charlie took another look around the large sitting room with wide eyes, his nerves getting the better of him. During every other occasion he spent with Sirius Black, it had been like stepping into an alternate reality. It always felt like a dream. And now that he was standing in the Black family home where Sirius, Remus, and Snape raised Draco and Harry… it suddenly felt very real. He knew he was the first person in ten years to receive an invitation to the house located on 93 Subery Street by the establishment’s secret keeper, and that fact was a bit intimidating. Not even the Tonks family or the Longbottoms had access to this house, and he was beginning to wonder what made him so special.

Sirius grunted in answer and gave Charlie a meaningful look as he snatched his trunk away from him. “Corey,” he called.

There was a pop and suddenly a tiny house-elf appeared before them dressed in a simple black robe with the family crest on the lapel. Charlie knew very little about house-elves, but he at least knew that only free elves wore clothing.

“Good morning Sirius,” the elf greeted kindly, and Charlie gaped at the little creature. “Can Corey help you with that?”

“Morning Corey,” Sirius returned in kind, momentarily distracted when a delicious smell wafted through the house. He returned his attention to the small elf and grinned. “I know you’re excited for the boys to return, but there’s only two of them. Why do I get the feeling that you made food for a whole army in there?”

Corey wriggled happily at the mention of the boys, and Charlie could tell he was practically jumping out of his skin with elation. “Pippy is asking Corey’s help, sir, with the Order of the Dragon meeting.”

“So he is making food for a whole army then,” Charlie quipped. “You have excellent instincts Mr. Black.”

Sirius rolled his eyes as Corey focused his attention on Charlie. “Can I shows you to the guest room Master Weasley?”

Charlie smiled down at Corey. “You can call me Charlie if you like—“

“And he’ll be in my room, thank you Corey,” Sirius added.

Charlie blushed slightly as the little elf frowned at Sirius. “You make Corey prepare guest room ten years ago and no ones ever sleeping in,” he grumbled, as he plucked Charlie’s luggage from Sirius’s grasp. “Corey points out again that Draco and Harry might likes a study of their ownses.”

“That guest room is for emergencies Cor. You never know. Severus might bring home a stray.”

Charlie had no idea eyes so wide and innocent looking could glare with such obvious annoyance. And with a sharp snap of his bony fingers, the house-elf disappeared. Charlie chuckled as he collapsed onto a nearby sofa.

Sirius cocked his head to the side as he peered over at the redhead with mild amusement. “Well make yourself at home then,” Sirius joked and Charlie buried his face into the sofa cushions to hide his smile. “What happened to the nerves you were displaying mere moments ago?”

Charlie sucked in his lips and looked up at the older wizard from beneath his lashes. “I just remembered how amazing you are.”

Sirius guffawed. “Well that’s a high compliment. Thank you,” he choked out, his voice laced with genuine humility.

“It’s not as if I was worried that you would be this completely different person now that we’re no longer galavanting across the globe, but…” Charlie took a deep breath as Sirius sat down next to him on the sofa, squeezing his knee comfortingly. “I don’t know,” Charlie continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Being here, I’m no longer in neutral territory. This is where you live almost every day and… I just thought I would feel different somehow.”

“Different how,” Sirius asked, reaching up a hand to stroke Charlie’s hair.

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I’d finally realize that what we are doing isn’t normal and that the fantasy I had built up in my head for the last five months would come crashing down around me and then I would freak out and all the plans I’ve made would no longer be valid and I’d have to rethink my entire future.”

There was a long silence and Charlie blinked open an eyelid after he registered the fact that he was squeezing them shut a little too tightly. Sirius’s face loomed before him, his expression soft and brimming with fondness. “Merlin. Charlie Weasley, I had no idea you were such a pessimist.”

Charlie snorted and shoved Sirius playfully away from him before looking out the nearby window into the grassy field that was Sirius’s property. Perfect for Quidditch, Charlie couldn’t help but notice. “I’d say I’m more of a realist. Well, I was more of a realist. Before I met you.”

Charlie felt Sirius’s head nuzzle its way into his shoulder and the redhead looked down at wide, guileless silver eyes that contrasted beautiful with a wicked smirk. “Oh really,” Sirius teased. “And what did I do to readjust your defeatist views on the world, Mr. Weasley?”

Charlie shook his head affectionately and placed a hand under Sirius’s chin, raising his face up until they were eye to eye. He placed his palms on either side of Sirius’s face, running his thumbs over the man’s sharp cheekbones. “I came here expecting to wake up from a dream,” Charlie told him, trying desperately to express his feelings with even the smallest semblance of comprehension. He highly doubted he would succeed, but proceeded with his attempt anyway. “But instead, with one simple conversation between you and a very familial house-elf, I realized I’m already awake, submerged in reality’s sobering pool and oddly feeling perfectly comfortable there.”

Sirius exhaled out his nose with mild amusement and with him being so close, the puff floated lovingly against Charlie’s upper lip. “A poet you are not, Charles Septimus Weasley. Please don’t quit your day jo—“

Charlie tugged the older wizard’s face that last inch closer and pressed his mouth to Sirius’s, effectively shutting him up. It was the first kiss they had shared in the time that he arrived at the ministry via portkey earlier that morning, and Charlie felt that was a crying shame, no matter how annoyed he currently was with the man for mocking the elegant description of his feelings. Although, Charlie had to admit, it was a bit much.

Time seemed to roar to a stop as the two men made themselves comfortable on the sofa. When they finally came up for air, Charlie had no idea how much time had truly passed nor did he care. As long as the Hogwarts express hadn’t arrived at King’s Cross station yet, Charlie was perfectly willing to squander the rest of his morning curled up in Sirius Black’s arms.

Sirius leaned down and planted one more lingering kiss on Charlie’s lips before burying his head into the crook of Charlie’s neck and embracing him tightly.

“We should go,” Sirius suddenly voiced with a sigh. “I told Remus I’d meet him on the platform at noon.”

“And I told my parents and Bill I’d have lunch with them before the Order meeting,” Charlie said as he stroked Sirius’s soft, dark hair and looked at the clock on the wall. 11:45. Charlie hummed sadly, but gently coaxed Sirius back into a sitting position. “So, are you excited?”

“To have my kids home,” Sirius asked with a grin, as he straightened his black jumper and fixed the collar and cuffs of the blue and white striped dress shirt underneath. He paused and glanced over at Charlie out of the corner of his eye. “Ecstatic,” he enthused.

***

“Merlin’s saggy left tit!”

Harry and Draco blinked up at their father, but Sirius hardly noticed, too focused he was on the familiar horrid cloak before him.

“Dad,” Draco gasped.

Sirius continued to gape, struck dumb and mute by the world around him. How can this be here? So much time I spent trying to find it. Where has it been?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he twisted his head around to face Remus, the werewolf’s expression mirroring his own almost exactly. “Is that…” Moony trailed off, but it didn’t matter. None of this mattered. Sirius was so confused, locked in the memories and despair of the past.

“James,” he finally uttered, the name carried on a breath of air that was pulled from his lungs like a dementor had drawn it out with its kiss.

Green eyes widened behind wire-rimmed spectacles as they focused on the cloak clutched in his eleven-year-old hands. “I— what?”

“I checked everywhere for that, Harry. I promise I did,” Sirius explained. “Every nook and cranny of Godric’s Hollow and then I scoured every inch of Potter Manor. I never found it. How— how do you have this?”

Obviously still puzzled, Harry replied, “I told you it was a gift. I found it at the edge of my bed yesterday morning… Sirius, are you saying my dad had an invisibility cloak?”  
Sirius shook his head, and leaned over slightly so his eyes were more level with Harry’s. He quickly changed his expression from one of utter surprise to something a bit more subdued and comforting. “Not an invisibility cloak, but this invisibility cloak,” Sirius explained, raising his hands to rest them on Harry’s shoulder in a supporting gesture, although he couldn’t help but feel like he was the one who needed consoling at that moment and his Godson was providing a steady shoulder to lean on. “I’d recognize that ugly thing anywhere.” He heard Remus chuckle behind him and when Harry raised his head, their was a wry grin on his lips. “That invisibly cloak has been passed down the Potter family line for ages. So far back, in fact, that no one knows exactly which of James’s ancestors created it. But your father was the owner of this cloak and his father was the owner before that. Your Uncle Remus and I searched for that cloak for years, Harry. In fact, I don’t think we ever stopped looking.”

“So… this cloak is mine?”

“Yeah kiddo,” Remus responded while Sirius nodded his head.

“Well, that makes so much more sense,” Harry exclaimed, his voice a mixture of relief and awe and anguish. “Whoever sent me this must have known it was mine! They must have tried to get this to me, but couldn’t until now!”

Sirius heard Draco clear his throat with an unconvinced cough and Sirius pinched his eyebrows together as he pondered Harry’s statement. What possible reason was there that the person in possession of this cloak couldn’t get it to its rightful owner until Harry went to Hogwarts? It wasn’t as if Harry Potter hadn’t been easily accessible over these past ten years. Or if they couldn’t contact Harry himself, they could have contacted the boy’s guardian, Sirius Black, or the Potter family Financial Advisor, Remus Lupin. Unless, of course, this person didn’t want Sirius or Remus to know they had it. Perhaps it was a child who nicked it from Godric’s Hollow and was too afraid to reveal their identity for fear of the repercussions. Harry had said the gift was given anonymously, and yet, Sirius still felt he was missing something. None of this made any sense, but rather than voice that aloud he decided on a different question. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “Harry, you said this was an anonymous gift. Did it come with anything that might help identify the person?”

Harry nodded before pulling out a small piece of parchment from inside his Hogwarts robes. Neither he nor Draco had changed out of their school uniforms yet since Harry had sprung this invisibility cloak bombshell on Sirius almost immediately after returning home from the train station. “This was all,” he said, handing the card over to Sirius who stood up straight again to examine it. He felt Remus step up close to peer over his shoulder.

Of course. 

Sirius recognized the handwriting instantly, having received countless missives over the last eleven years in that same loopy script detailing what was to be discussed at upcoming Wizengamot summits. His mouth fell open with expletives waiting to be spilled, but was kept from doing so when Remus pinched him hard on the arm. Of course Moony had recognized the handwriting as well and seemed to be much quicker on the uptake. Sirius clamped his mouth shut, clenching his teeth tightly so as not to notify the children that their headmaster was the one who robbed Harry Potter of a beloved family heirloom for the last ten years.

His fists were squeezed so tightly together, Sirius felt the nails of his fingers dig into his palm. Draco seemed to notice the rigidity in every muscle of Sirius’s body, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in his father’s appearance. Sirius had to take great pains to calm down and appear nonchalant or risk being asked questions he really did not want to answer. Dumbledore was on the list of thorns in his side (that list also including the return of Voldemort, the formation of the Order of the Dragon, the identity of Draco’s Godfather as a Death Eater, and Draco’s true parentage) that he never wanted his children to deal with if he could help it. He didn’t want Draco and Harry to not trust the ancient headmaster for he was still a valid ally in this battle against evil and a truly powerful wizard that Sirius was still certain would protect the light at any cost. For these reasons and these reasons alone, Sirius put on the greatest act of his life in front of these two eleven-year-olds that he desperately wished he never had to lie to. Unfortunately, acting like nothing was wrong was insurmountably difficult since Sirius’s insides were roiling with hatred for the old loon, his anger infinitesimally worse than what he had felt on Halloween. At least Dumbledore had a valid excuse for his actions that October night. Stealing James’s cloak and secretly returning it to Harry a decade later with only one demand: to use it well… There was no excuse Albus could possibly make that Sirius would accept. He couldn’t wait to hear what Albus Dumbledore had to say for himself.

“Well we are very thankful that someone has returned what rightfully belongs to you, Harry,” Remus finally spoke up. Sirius was relieved to hear the easy cadence of Moony’s voice when he spoke to Harry. Sirius very much doubted he could pull off even-tempered right now and was grateful that Remus was taking up the mantle of father figure at the moment.

“So wait, does this mean that I can keep it,” Harry asked.

Sirius’s rage dispelled just enough for him to answer Harry’s question. He ruffled his Godson’s hair, which really only made it look better than before, and declared, “You should have had it ten years ago. Of course you can keep it.” Harry grinned widely and Draco joined in seconds later. His son still seemed to be searching his face for answers Draco didn’t even know the questions for and Sirius inwardly groaned for his stupidity in raising such an inquisitive little Slytherin. Actually, fuck that! He blamed Severus for this particular trait of Draco’s. Curiosity and general awareness of one’s surroundings were great qualities in a person, but Merlin only knew how much of a nuisance it was to raise a child with such quick understanding of the things going on around him, especially when Sirius was keeping such colossal secrets from him.

Sirius pulled out his pocket watch and without even glancing at he time proclaimed, “Well we have that meeting at Gringott’s to get to, so we should probably get going.” Sirius pointed a threatening finger at his two children and smirked wickedly. “Now, you both be good for Cor. He’s only one little house-elf and you two are trained wizards now. Be responsible. Remus and I will be back tonight with Uncle Steven and Charlie. Don’t burn down the house.”

“Alright dad,” Draco replied with a roll of his eyes.

“We’ll be good Sirius,” Harry added, clutching the cloak in his hands closer to his body. Sirius glanced at it skeptically.

“And that,” he stated, pointing his finger at the offending piece of cloth with potential power beyond even Sirius’s imagination. “If either of you use that invisibility cloak for anything other than protection or harmless pranks, I’ll… well, Iet’s just say it won’t be nice and I’ll let you form your own conclusions from there. Got it?!”

Draco and Harry both nodded quickly and Sirius grinned. “Alright then.” Suddenly, Sirius leapt at the two boys and pulled them into a tight group hug. “I missed you,” he whispered into the space between their heads. He then embarrassingly pecked each of them on the forehead and they both groaned in unison. “Let me do what I want,” Sirius proclaimed as he squeezed them tighter. “It’s Christmas.”

“Fine,” Draco choked out.

“What Draco’s means is we missed you too,” Harry gasped out between breaths.

Sirius released them and they both sighed in relief. “Alright, we’ll be back tonight,” Sirius declared before turning back to Remus and waving over his shoulder in goodbye. Remus waved too and followed Sirius out the door, although Sirius was practically sprinting to the apparition point outside the wards, the rage from earlier returning with a vengeance now that he no longer had to keep it hidden behind a mask.

“Padfoot,” Remus shouted after him, but Sirius studiously ignored him. “Sirius Black, stop right now,” Moony demanded. “Where are you going?”

Sirius finally stepped past the wards that surrounded the entirety of his property and spun around to face his best mate. “You know exactly where I’m going!”

Remus sighed in exasperation. “You can’t—“

“What?! I can’t yell at the almighty Albus fucking Dumbledore?!”

“What about the order meeting? It’s in an hour.”

“Stall them,” Sirius hissed through clenched teeth. “I have something to do that I should have done a long time ago.”

Remus ran a hand through his hair as he debated with himself over whether he wanted to keep pushing this fragile peace between Sirius and Albus for just a little while longer, but it seemed Moony realized he was fighting a losing battle this time around. Sirius was determined to finally have it out with the old headmaster and nothing was going to stand in his way. “Go to the Hogsmeade house and explain that I just went to fetch Steven. It’s partially true,” Sirius reasoned.

Moony sighed once more, before looking up with his own jaw set in dangerous resolve. “Give him hell.”

Sirius’s lips curled up into a cruel and villainous grin and nodded his head once in acknowledgement. He twisted on his heal, but the sound of his name had him turning back one last time. He raised an eyebrow at Moony in question.

“Just… you know, be careful,” Remus pleaded, cringing and rubbing his eyebrow as if mortified by his declaration of concern, but Sirius knew Moony was simply trying to hide the fear he felt for his friend.

“I will,” Sirius promised. “I only have a few questions for him. It’s not as if I’ll be waving a wand in his face. Even I’m not that idiotic.”

Moony nodded in understanding. “Questions, huh?”

“More like demands,” Sirius quipped.

“What will the first one be?”

Sirius took a second to consider this before answering, “I’m gong to demand to know, why? Just… why?”

“A bit vague,” Remus mused.

“Yeah, but it encompasses every question I’ve wanted to ask him since I was eleven years old.”

“Well then,” Moony said taking a step away from Sirius and pulling out his wand in preparation for apparition. “Good luck.”

When his fellow marauder disappeared from view, Sirius stared at the empty space for several long seconds, blinking intermittently as his brain tried to catch up to the thoughts that suddenly swirled around his head.

Luck.

Sirius gasped as the idea finally penetrated his mind. His smile turned manic and he cheered happily into the cloudy gray sky. He lifted his wand and mentally changed the destination of his apparition. 

He just needed to nip into the vaults under Black Manor real quick and grab a little something for the road.

***

Once he apparated to Hogsmeade, he uncorked the small vial of golden liquid and took a swig. It was only enough to grant insane luck for the next hour, but hopefully that would be all he needed.

He felt lighter than air as his legs spun away from the direction of Hogwarts and toward the Three Broomsticks.

“Good afternoon, Rosmerta,” he greeted, taking a seat at the bar where the proprietress was casually waving a wand in the direction of a pewter caldron.

“What can I do for you Sirius?”

“You know,” Sirius replied, “I think I’ll take a bottle of whatever that is that you have brewing.”

Rosie halted her intermittent flicks and swishes to glance over at Sirius curiously. “A whole bottle?”

“If you don’t mind.” Sirius grinned handsomely in her direction and pulled out the wallet from inside his coat pocket. “It will surely keep more warm on such chilly winter day.”

For some reason, Sirius’s words garnered a very bemused expression from the older witch, but she eventually returned to her brewing and siphoned off enough of the enhanced fire whiskey to fill a bottle. “I should warn you that this particular concoction is a lot more volatile than that shite you’ll get in the shops.”

“Perfect!” Sirius handed over the ten galleons her homemade fire whiskey usually cost and snatched up the proffered bottle of alcohol. “Thanks Rosie. I’ll be back later to let you know if it was any good.”

Rosmerta leaned forward against the oak wood counter top and raised a plucked blonde eyebrow in his direction. “Have fun… I guess.”

“Oh, this isn’t for fun,” Sirius assured her before standing up to leave. He started towards the front door when the magical force behind the Felix Felicis halted his movements and changed the direction of his feet toward to the back room where the floo stations were. There he bumped into Severus Snape, already polyjuiced into Steven Prince.

“Sirius, what are you doing here?”

“Had to pick something up,” Sirius answered, holding up the bottle.

“Wha—“

“Oh hey, do you know the floo password for Dumbledore’s office?”

Clearly taken aback (although Sirius couldn’t figure out why for the question seemed perfectly reasonable), Severus gaped at the man in front of him for several agonizing seconds. “No…”

Sirius snapped his fingers, physically representing his internal curse of “drat.” “What about the one to the Gargoyle? Its always some kind of sweet, right?”

“I just got back from a meeting with him and it’s ‘ice mice’… Sirius, are you alright?”

“I’m brilliant!” Sirius looked up and to the left staring dreamily off into the distance. “I think it’s working,” Sirius mused.

“What’s working,” Sev asked, clearly concerned, and not for the first time Sirius had to wonder why everyone was looking at him like he had grown a second head. Everything he was saying and doing was making perfect sense. How could they not see that?

“It’s no matter. Don’t worry about it Sev. Listen, I have to go. Why don’t you just wait here? I’ll be back in an hour.” Sirius took another quick glance at the floo stations before officially ruling them out as a way to get into Hogwarts and sprinted back into the main restaurant area and out the front door. He could hear the tenor voice of Steven calling after him, but Sirius was already changing into Padfoot and sprinting toward the Shrieking Shack.

He had a slight sense of Deja Vu, but instead of the dread he felt the last time he charged through the tunnels underneath the Weeping Willow, he only felt elation at finally getting the answers he’d always longed for. Padfoot didn’t stop running until he made it to the Headmaster’s tower, and luck was obviously in his favor as he hadn’t run into a single person on the way.

“Ice mice,” he told the Gargoyle once he was human again, and the winding staircase to Dumbledore’s office appeared before him. He sprinted up the steps and rapped on the door with his free hand, the other still clutching Rosie’s homemade fire whiskey. There was a long bout of silence; the only sound was of Sirius’s excited fidgeting as he waited for the door to open. The great thing about liquid luck was that Sirius knew the door would open eventually. Otherwise, the potion would not have taken him here. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open to reveal the headmaster’s office. There were trinkets and gadgets covering every available surface. The book cases on the wall to the left were filled completely with books of every shape and size, the colorful bindings pleasing to the eye. Perched next to the large cherry wood desk was a brilliant Phoenix, still clearly in it’s prime. He stood regally and eyed Sirius without a hint of distrust which seemed to make the great wizard sitting behind the desk unclench slightly.

“Ah, Mister Black. What can I do for you?”

Sirius paused for only a moment to continue admiring the amazing creature in the room before turning his attention back to Albus. He held up the bottle of fire whiskey and smirked. “Care for a drink?” Without waiting for an answer, Sirius grabbed two glasses from a nearby drink cart and settled into one of the guest chairs across from Dumbledore. This is probably the same chair Snape has to sit in during all those meetings. Poor chap. It’s bloody uncomfortable. Sirius rose from the seat and took out his wand, conjuring a up a cushion, and then returning to a sitting position. For what it was worth, Albus actually looked slightly amused by Sirius’s antics, a small quirk of his lips and a sparkle in his blue eyes giving him away. Sirius would take that as a win.

“Are you planning to be here for awhile, then?”

Sirius looked up from where the whiskey bottle was poised just above one of the glasses ready to be poured and served neat, with wide eyes. And then he looked down at the cushion and grinned. “Oh the pillow. Er yes, if you don’t mind— well actually, even if you do mind. I have some questions.” Sirius finished pouring the whiskey and slid one of the glasses toward Dumbledore.

Albus picked up the glass and swished the contents, watching the golds and reds of the beverage swirl together beautifully. He then took a sip and grinned happily. “Ah, one of Miss Ogden’s I presume. She was always one of my favorite students.”

“High compliment,” Sirius stated, swallowing some of the liquid himself. “As far as I know, you don’t really have many of those. Probably just Rosie, James, Lily, and Snape. At least, when I went to school here.” Sirius grinned wryly as he stared up at Albus from under his lashes. The man appeared perfectly calm, but Sirius knew the old wizard’s face well enough by now to notice the slight tension in his jaw and as always, his signature twinkle grew duller the longer Sirius talked.

“Well, we both know how you got into the school—“

“Because you haven’t bothered to board up the tunnels yet. It’s like you want Voldemort to just waltz his way in.”

“So you do know he’s still alive?” The headmaster took another dram and eying Sirius suspiciously.

“And unwell, since he can only survive by drinking unicorn blood,” Sirius confirmed.

Dumbledore said nothing as he sipped more of the burning liquid. Suddenly he returned his attention to Sirius’s face. “How did you find out my password?”

“Snape told me,” Sirius answered, and even though it was the truth, the tone of his voice clearly lead others to believe he was making a joke.

“If that is the case,” Dumbledore began, clearly disbelieving Sirius’s statement, as intended, “then shall I get in contact with St. Mungo’s?”

Sirius snorted with laughter as he settled more comfortably in his seat. “You’re funny,” Sirius noted, tipping his glass in Albus’s direction. “Most people have no idea you can crack a joke, but I’ve known that particular fact about you for a while.”

Dumbledore set down his glass and and steepled his fingers together in front of him. “You said you had questions?”

Sirius snapped his fingers and lowered his own drink. “Right, right, right.” He leaned an elbow on the desk in front of him and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “So… why’d you take the cloak?”

If Albus Dumbledore was surprised by Sirius’s question, he must have been the greatest actor in existence. Or one of the best Occlumens the wizarding world had ever known.

Or both.

“I thought you had kidnapped Harry,” Dumbledore replied simply. “I thought you had somehow bypassed the laws of the fidelius charm and had actually been the secret keeper for James and Lily. When you had run off with the help of Remus, I took a few things from the house such as the cloak and a snitch and a dagger… small but significant things of James’s that I wanted to protect for Harry in the future. I knew it was unfair to keep the cloak so I gave it to Harry for Christmas.”

The answer sounded rehearsed, but Sirius had no doubts Dumbledore was telling the truth. “And when you found out I wasn’t the secret keeper…?” Sirius waited, but Dumbledore never responded. “Ah,” Sirius tsked. “I see. You still didn’t trust me— You’ve never trusted me. Why have you never trusted me?” Sirius could feel the anger in him boil once again when the Headmaster refused to answer his very polite question. Obviously the Felix Felicis wanted him to embrace his rage in that moment because he started shouting, “Come on Albus! What did I do exactly to always make you suspect me of wrongdoing?! Why headmaster? Why?!”

“Because you remind me of him!”

Sirius was so shocked by the outburst, meaning he had actually managed to break through the great wizard’s stoic demeanor, that he didn’t register what the words meant for several long seconds. “Who,” he finally asked, his eyes wide with the implications. Surely I don’t remind you of Tom Riddle. Please don’t let me remind you of Voldemort, Sirius pleaded.

“He was like you… so much like you.” Dumbledore spoke softly, but Sirius heard every word, captivated. It was clear Albus regretted his earlier exclamation, but the combination of heightened emotions and the glass of unstable fire whiskey, lead Albus to continue. Sirius could also see the sense of relief in the lines of the ancient wizard’s face at finally voicing these thought’s aloud. “He could step into any room and be the center of attention. He spoke enthusiastically about things he was passionate about. People were drawn to him. People loved him. I loved him.”

“Who?” 

Sirius’s voice was so small he wasn’t certain Albus heard him. He also suddenly hoped the headmaster hadn’t heard him at all. He wished they would just stop now, end this conversation, and move on, for he wasn’t particularly certain he wanted to hear the answer to this question anymore. But the liquid luck pouring through his system forced him to stay and wait for Albus’s response. He had come here to get the answers he was looking for and the Felix Felicis wasn’t going to let him leave until he got them.

“Gellert. Gellert Grindelwald.”

Sirius could only stare openmouthed at the man in front of him as Albus continued talking.

“He was smart, wickedly smart. His ideas were mad, but brilliant. And all I wanted was to be near him, to find the magical items only mentioned in legend with him. But, when we returned from an expedition of ours in early December, Gellert spoke of revealing ourselves to the rest of the world, to come out of hiding… So many were opposed to the idea. I was opposed to the idea. The muggles were at war with each other. It would be idiotic to announce ourselves to this world of barbarians. But I still wanted to be near him, near the man I loved. But it wasn’t soon after we returned home, a duel between Aberforth and Gellert broke out and… We saw little of each other after that. I only had Aberforth left and I wanted to keep what little remained of my family safe. Gellert’s views didn’t match mine. He would have taken over the world if I wasn’t there to stop him in the end. So I did.” 

Albus paused and poured himself another glass of whiskey. He took a large gulp, before heaving a sigh. Sirius was not about to interrupt him, so he waited patiently, one thought floating around his conscience. This was why Dumbledore refused to be Minister. All that power in one person… that seems to be Albus’s nightmare.

“And then, you came to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore finally whispered looking up at Sirius with a slight tilt of his head, studying him almost. “You were sorted into a house that you were never destined for, but you were quick to settle into your new future. I watched you year after year and the older you got the more you reminded me of him. I never feared that you were just another one of Tom’s Death Eaters, Sirius. You are no lackey. You can rule the world with the snap of your finger and that scares me to death.”

“So you no longer want to trust powerful wizards,” Sirius stated, his voice croaking from all the information he just took in. “I can understand that. Between Grindelwald and Voldemort… I’d be a bit less inclined to put my trust in them as well. Perhaps this is why you are keeping an eye on Harry?”

“He amassed a following when he was a year old,” Dumbledore explained. “And you were his Godfather, his guardian. I thought Harry Potter would be taught to use his name to get what he wanted. And he does…” Sirius just now noticed how completely manic and distressed the old headmaster looked. For Albus, this particular conversation was probably one he never thought he would have, and he seemed surprised more than anyone that he still continued to talk, unable to keep his secrets locked in anymore.

“But Harry uses his name for good,” Sirius urged. “He wants to build a school. He wants children to be friends regardless of what house they are sorted into. And I taught him that. There is one powerful wizard that has never betrayed you, Headmaster: me. Twenty years ago, you saved me from abusing this power you think I have. That night on the astronomy tower where you talked me off the proverbial ledge. I was scared out of my mind being sorted into Gryffindor. James and Peter looked at me like I was a traitor already. And Remus… well he was dealing with his own problems to pay attention to mine. I was ready to give up on ever being friends with them. I was going to make them my enemy, but you talked me out of it. Do you remember what you said to me?”

The words were drawn from Dumbledore’s mouth like a flash of memory from an extraction spell. “Why must we think our destinies are something they are not…”

“Right. And the next day, I was laying in my bed waiting for my dorm mates to wake up. I told them that their animosity towards me was ridiculous. I wasn’t some Slytherin spy hoping to get information from them and then head on back to the dungeons,” Sirius said, smiling at the memory. “I am a Gryffindor, Albus. And since you saved me that night, I’ve never looked back. I’ve never thought about using my influence for anything but good. And so you think you need to save Harry as well, but what you need to realize, is that’s not your job. Your job was to save me and my job was to save Harry. And I’m pretty certain we both did our jobs wonderfully.”

Sirius let the silence linger after that last statement, waiting patiently for the Headmaster to say something, anything. The liquid luck was going to run out soon. “Thank you for the insight, Mister Black,” Albus finally said, his voice once again the dictionary definition of stoic. Sirius mentally sighed when he realized he had not convinced the ancient wizard of his innocence. This conversation was a step in the right direction, but nowhere near the finish line. Albus clearly still did not trust Sirius and Sirius was willing to return the favor. Trust was a mutual thing. “But I must be elsewhere.”

Sirius stood from his seat, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. He vanished away the cushion and eyed the bottle of whiskey, almost two-thirds gone. He decided to leave it in a show of good faith. Sirius offered up a hand and Dumbledore stood up from his own seat and shook it. Neither spoke, only nodding in goodbye and Sirius turned to leave. But as his hand reached the door handle, a thought jumped to the forefront of his mind which he only now realized had been bothering him since the beginning of this conversation. “Headmaster, you said you took a dagger from James’s house? What did it look like?”

“Why?”

Sirius didn’t know why. He knew he had gathered all the Potter ceremonial blades and placed them into the Potter vault at Gringotts, so this must be something different. This information was obviously something the liquid luck wanted him to obtain. “Humor me.”

Dumbledore sighed and stroked his beard thoughtfully. Finally, he answered, “I am uncertain how James acquired it, but it was Gryffindor’s dagger.”

Godric Gryffindor’s dragon-bone dagger? It was said that one of the founder’s many heirs lost it on the battlefield during the Goblin Rebellion’s of 1612. Sirius had written a paper on it for his fifth year History of Magic class. If the Potters had that dagger all this time, certainly James would have told his best friend, the man he considered his brother. This didn’t make any sense.

“You know this for certain?”

“I had it authenticated and placed next to Gryffindor’s sword in the trophy room. Now, please leave my office, and do not return without my permission again, Mister Black.”

Sirius snorted derisively. “Stop giving me reasons to sneak into your school and perhaps I’ll do what I’m told.” He smirked in the headmaster’s direction adding a final, “Oh, and Happy Christmas, Albus.”

Sirius stepped out of the Headmaster’s office and before he knew it, he was outside The Three Broomsticks once more, losing track of time as he relived the enlightening conversation he had just had with Albus Dumbledore over and over again. The dagger was what kept tripping him up. There was something to that and unfortunately his supply of Felix Felices had drained from his system so it seemed unlikely that he would stumble upon a lucky guess. However, Sirius was always known for having excellent instincts, and he could feel the answer on the tip of tongue.

Come on… What am I missing? Think, Sirius, think.

Sirius pushed open the door and was bathed in the warmth of the fireplaces. Only then did he remember that he was here to get Severus and drag him to the first Order meeting. Today they were going to reveal to the people they trusted that Voldemort was still alive with the help of six Horcruxes and that—

Wait! That’s it!

Sirius spotted the wavy brown hair of Steven Prince and sprinted toward him. His friend was seated at the bar telling a very interesting story to the woman behind it. She was listening with rapt attention when she spotted Sirius’s approaching figure out of the corner of her eye. “You’re back,” she exclaimed. “…and I don’t see a bottle of my fire whiskey in your hands. Did you really drink all that?”

Sirius shook his head as he stepped up to Severus, grabbing his boney shoulders and twisting him around to face him. “Five! He only has five!”

“Wha—“

“We have to go,” Sirius exclaimed, lifting Sev from his barstool and pushing him toward the back room where the fireplaces were waiting for him. “Sorry Rosie,” he called over his shoulder. “You brew a lovely whiskey though. It proved to be very illuminating.”

“Uh… ok,” she called after his retreating back. “Come back soon!”

“Sirius— oof!” Sirius ignored the fact that he just walked Severus into a wall and continued on his way, traversing the corner and finally entering the floo room. Sev stopped him before he could walk straight into the flames. He turned around and grabbed Sirius’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. “Where’s the fire, Sirius?”

“We have to hurry!”

“Why?”

“I have to tell Moony!”

“Tell him what?”

Sirius rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, incanting a quick muffliato and grabbing his friend’s shoulders in return. He bored his silver eyes into Steven’s hazels. “Voldemort has only created five horcruxes, Sev. Five! Now can we go?”

Severus’s wide eyes narrowed in determination. He nodded and quickly spun on his heals, grabbing a handful of floo powder and calling out the Hogsmeade house address in the span of a second.

“After you,” Severus offered and Sirius grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Just a heads up, I will not be posting next week as I will be on vacation. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. As always, thank you for all the lovely comments on my last chapter. I can’t believe I’m almost to 300 followers on this story! You guys are brilliant.


	18. 1:18- Welcome Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I know I post DSB chapters on Mondays but I haven't posted the last three Mondays, so technically I've been breaking my own rules for a while now. This should be no different. Besides, I want you all to have the weekend to read this extra-long chapter. Please enjoy.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> BingeMac

Remus had to physically stop himself from nervously shifting from foot to foot in front of all these people. The guests of the house in Hogsmeade were currently talking amongst themselves as they waited for the two men who had yet to arrive. Arthur and Molly kept shooting worried glances Remus's way and he hoped he looked cool and collected which was exactly the opposite of how he actually felt at that moment. 

Remus Lupin was a bundle of nerves. Not only was he in charge of telling all these people about the continued existence of one of the most dangerous wizards in the country, if not the world, but he also had to tell them today, of all days. Despite how much he trusted the likes of Andromeda and Ted, Grayson and Naomi, Amelia Bones or the Weasleys the only people in attendance today who knew about his dangerous alter ego were Dora and the Longbottoms. It was a little uncomfortable to be in a room full of people who had no idea his random shuffling this past hour had just as much to do with the phase of the moon tonight and his empty supply of wolfsbane potion than the topic of today's meeting. 

I have to get out of here. 

"Excuse me everyone. I'm going to see what's holding Sirius and Steven up. I'll be right back," Remus explained as he exited the room, ignoring all the stares thrown his way as best as he could. He made a bee-line up the steps and eventually closed himself off from the rest of the house when he shut the door to the drawing room behind him. 

Remus drew a long breath as he tried to regain his composure but it wasn't helping. The combination of secrets he'd been keeping lately was quickly eating away at him and he needed to explain things soon or die. He hated this feeling. The wolf was a constant threat to his sanity and ability to remain calm. The only reason he was able to keep these secrets from spilling at all was that his friends relied on him to do so. His family relied on him to be strong. It had been so long since he had to worry like this. If only the best day for everyone in the agreed upon new Order of the Dragon to meet wasn't the night of a full moon. 

"Are you alright?"

Remus looked up from where he was hunched over the small desk in the corner to find the only Weasley that already knew everything. Well... almost everything. 

Remus cleared his throat and stood to his full height, making himself even with the lanky redhead. "Just anxious."

Charlie tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes at Remus in contemplation. "You seem more… agitated."

"Well, that too," Remus agreed with a laugh that did little to relieve his tension. Remus sucked in a breath through his teeth as he lifted his wrist to check his watch. "Sirius has been gone a long time."

"Speaking of, where is he? Obviously I know the Steven excuse is bullshit. That wasn't the plan. Is Snape ok?"

"Oh yeah, he's fine as far as I know. Sirius is just off confronting the real source of my agitation," Remus told Charlie who raised a ginger eyebrow in question. "Dumbledore," he explained with a sigh. 

"What'd he do?"

"He took something that didn't belong to him. I'm just hoping Syr is careful."

"You seem to worry about Sirius twice as much as you do everyone else."

"He's more than family," Remus said unconsciously, thinking about how much the wolf in him cared for the big, black dog that had taken to running with him nearly every full moon since fifth year. Sirius Black was family, but Padfoot was pack. Remus took a seat in the leather armchair beside the desk and laid his head in his hands. "And my worry for Sirius is always worse on nights like— um..." Remus’s head shot up, a sudden sense of panic flowing through his veins. He tried his best to appear as normal as possible, but unfortunately, it seemed it was already too late. 

Charlie's eyes widened in comprehension. "On nights like these," he finished. "Oh! Moony! You’re a— oh!"

Instantly, the redhead sprinted from the room. Remus called after him but he didn't follow Charlie in case he was lead back to the room with all the other guests. His inner wolf would feel too cornered and he really didn't want to get defensive for fear of lashing out. Usually he had a handle on that side of him, but he had used the last of the wolfsbane potion he had on reserve last month and Severus couldn't bring the new batch yesterday because he was brewing a more improved version that needed another twelve hours to simmer before it was complete. He would be bringing it this afternoon, but perhaps that was already far too late. 

"Remus!" 

He heard the light footsteps that his sensitive ears recognized immediately as Dora's as they charged toward his crumpled form. Remus hadn’t even realized he had curled up in on himself since Charlie's departure, having fallen from the leather chair onto the carpeted floor clutching his head in anguish. His thoughts were a mess of human and wolf emotions battling for dominance and he had no idea how much time had passed since Charlie had left. 

"...it's ok. You're ok. Everything's fine." The calm voice eventually coaxed him out of his panic attack. He uncurled a bit and winked open an eyelid to find himself face to face with eyes so light green they could only be produced by a talented metamorphmagus. Her pink hair was now a light brown, like his own, and she pet his cheeks lightly, a small grin gracing her face. "Wotcher Remus."

Remus snorted rather inelegantly. "Wotcher."

Tonks wrinkled her nose up in disgust. "Never say that again. Doesn't suit you." Remus laughed and rose onto his knees next to Tonks. His muscles were tight but not too bad so it couldn't have been long since the start of his panic attack. Remus estimated a minute at most. "What happened? I saw Charlie run out of here in a hurry."

Remus was suddenly plagued with every worst-case scenario he could think of. That Charlie would tell everyone about his wolf-side. That he scared the one person Sirius Black had admitted to love in nearly ten years. That he would wolf out and lose control. “I— well Charlie—“

"Hey, sorry about that," came a male voice from the doorway. Two sets of eyes flicked over to the young Weasley boy. Charlie charged in and took a seat on the floor beside them. "I just got so excited. I didn't mean to run off, but I had to get this." Charlie held out a gift bag toward Remus. "Happy Christmas!"

Tonks and Remus eyed the bag skeptically but eventually the latter reached out and cautiously accepted the gift. He opened it and shifted the tissue paper out of the way. Once it was clear, he narrowed his eyes at the gift which consisted of two small glass spheres, hallowed out to allow for some kind of vegetation. Remus gently lifted one out and in the light he recognized the plant easily. Wide eyes shot up to the redhead who was nervously twiddling his fingers in anticipation.

"What is this?"

"Oh! Here," Charlie shouted, shooting to a standing position and reaching out two hands to help Tonks and Remus to their feet. "It will be easier to explain on the tile over there. Come on!"

Remus accepted the proffered hand with slightly less caution as he did the man's gift. Charlie Weasley had a natural trustworthiness that would make him particularly lethal if he ever decided to turn dark, Remus decided. Once the trio had stepped over to the tile floor in front of the two fireplaces Sirius had recently installed for personal floo travel, Remus raised an eyebrow at the ginger and waited for an explanation. 

"Ok, now throw it on the ground," Charlie encouraged, miming the action as if Remus hadn’t heard him (which was probably smart, because Remus was certain he hadn't heard the young wizard correctly, at least).

"You want me to break it?"

"Yeah!" Charlie’s smile faltered for a second before it returned with full force. "Don't worry; it's what you're supposed to do."

Remus glanced to his left where Tonks stood. It was possibly the longest Remus had ever heard Nymphadora Tonks remain silent. She looked over at Remus and shrugged, effectively saying, "What's the worst that can happen?"

Remus glanced back at the glass sphere and did as he was told. He threw his gift at the hard floor with more force than was probably necessary since the crystal ball shattered on impact into a thousand tiny pieces. The room was instantly filled with the aroma of the wolfsbane flower and Remus breathed it in with relish. Every muscle in his body relaxed and he felt the wolf recede back into the depths of his body waiting until moonlight to return. It wasn't as effective as one of Sev's concoctions but it did the trick in a pinch. 

"Wow, I— wow..."

Remus looked up to find Charlie grinning from ear to ear. "Oh good it worked! Well, I mean of course it worked. That's what it's designed for. Still— I'm glad it helped."

"What is that," Tonks asked. 

"Oh it's this wolfsbane— I mean... it uh— what?" Charlie scratched the back of his neck looking extremely panicked. It took Remus far too long to figure out why Charlie had suddenly gone so pale. 

"Oh! Don't worry," Remus told Charlie. "Tonks already knows about the werewolf thing."

Charlie visibly sagged in relief. "Thank Merlin."

Remus nodded his head in understanding. Accidentally revealing someone else's secret is one of the worst feelings in the world. Remus looked back down at the shattered glass at his feet and then up at the redhead. "Alright then, care to explain Mr. Weasley."

"Oh yeah. Right." Charlie cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter in the process before beginning his explanation. “Well see, there’s this werewolf that works with me. She’s part of this pack in Romania where her older sister is the alpha and her husband is the beta— I suppose none of this really matters, but I asked her so many questions when I found out she was a werewolf. I found it fascinating. Anyway, I saw Ylenia carrying around these orbs, so naturally I asked her about them. She told me that they’re an old trick that the Romanian werewolves have been using for centuries, yeah. A lot of them don’t have any potioneering skills or the money to pay for wolfsbane potions, so instead they use these crystals. Inside, they place the petals from the wolfsbane and let the flower ferment for a month. When the full moon comes around, each member of the pack cracks open an orb and it allows them to control their own mind when they shift into wolves. Of course, I thought these little balls were absolutely brilliant and I asked Ylenia if I could buy some off her. At first she refused, but a month later she had a couple dozen of these spheres for me and my Christmas shopping was over with— oh bollocks! I just told you what you’re gift is Tonks. You’ll have to just act surprised or something.”

Remus was still reeling from the fact that there was a werewolf openly working at the Dragon Reserve. Most of the other information was taking longer to pierce his thoughts.

“Oh I think I’ll be surprised,” Tonks deadpanned. “I’ll be shocked that you got me an orb full of wolfsbane that breaks in one use. How is that a good gift Charles Weasley?!”

“Merlin’s beard woman, do you think I’m an idiot?!” Charlie shook his head in dismay and snagged something from inside his cloak pocket. “Here, watch,” the redhead instructed, as he pulled out his wand and held out what Remus could now see was a blueberry. “Circumforma Reparo,” Charlie incanted, waving his wand in an intricate pattern. Remus and Tonks watched in awe as the once broken glass orb reformed around the blueberry in the young wizard’s left hand. Once it was completely fixed, Charlie tossed it gently in the air, before holding it out to the werewolf. “There you go. Now it will ferment the magical properties in this blueberry. I’ve read up on many different plants and fruits and such that would fit inside the sphere, and blueberries will help with focus and relaxation. Perfect for revising or research. The exchange is one week of fermentation for an hour of focus, so I was in the process of exchanging all the wolfsbane out during lunch with my family. Lucky I didn’t finish though, yeah?”

Remus gently extracted the sphere and chuckled lightly in openmouthed admiration. “That’s brilliant.”

“You think,” Charlie asked, his voice full of hope and excitement with a hint of that signature humbleness that made the young man so bloody likable.

Remus nodded his head in answer as he held the orb up to the window light to more closely inspect it. If you weren’t paying much attention, the orb would seem quite simple, but on closer inspection, Remus could see that the glass had been shaped into the symbols of ancient runes. These orbs contained deeply old magicks designed by skilled sorcerers, possibly even druids. They would prove difficult to recreate by the witches and wizard that used the more simple performance magic more commonly practiced nowadays. “Exquisite,” Remus mumbled, making a mental note to track down these Romanian werewolves once the holidays were over. He knew as soon as Sirius heard this story and studied the orbs himself, he would be chomping at the bit to contact this pack, so Remus decided he should prepare in advance.

Suddenly the floo flared to life and from the flames came a crazy-eyed Sirius Black.

“Remus!” Sirius flung himself at his fellow marauder, his face alight with unequivocal joy. He stepped back and noticed the two younger people in the room and grinned even wider. “Oh good, the inner circle is all here. What luck!”

“Merlin, Padfoot,” Remus chuckled out as he took in his friend’s cheerful demeanor. “I take it you’re talk with Dumbledore went well.”

“What— Oh, gods no! I practically murdered the man. He compared me to Grindelwald and admitted to taking stuff from James’s house because he wanted to keep it safe for Harry. The fool has serious trust issues— ha! Serious trust issues. Get it? Like my name!”

“I get it.”

“I love wordplay.”

“Wait, you knew he was confronting Albus,” Severus asked, as he too stepped out of the flames.

“He took Harry’s invisibility cloak, and whoa whoa whoa— hold up a second, Sirius,” Remus said, backtracking in the conversation and returning his attention to the smiling man before him. “Did you say Albus took stuff from the house. As in, more than just the cloak?”

“Do you see why I almost murdered him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Sirius paused, his smile falling from his face, his expression turning suddenly pensive. “Huh… that is a decent amount of restraint I don’t normally possess—“

“Did you at least demand for the things back?”

“Uh… no actually. Hmm that’s a bit odd. I suppose the liquid luck had other things on its mind. We’ll have to ask for it some other time. I think Albus said something about a snitch, possibly the one James caught when he played Seeker against Ravencla—“

“I’m sorry did you just say you drank the felix felices I gave you for Christmas last year,” Snape demanded.

“I— what?” Sirius at least looked slightly ashamed by this unique revelation.

“You were supposed to save it for something important, you prat—“

“This was important—“

“Important like Voldemort?”

“Well it turned out that way—“

“Did you drink the whole thing?”

“No of course not, enough for an hour only. There’s still half of the bottle left. Besides, it was Remus’s idea.”

“Wait a moment,” Remus chimed in, affronted by this accusation. “What did you just say?! How was the liquid luck my idea?!”

“None of this matters,” Sirius groaned. “I have something much more important to discuss with you, here,” the man revealed as he skirted both around the topic and physically around the suddenly irate werewolf to stand between his second cousin and his boyfriend, both of which were sporting looks of complete bewilderment and amusement.

“Like what,” Remus challenged, crossing his arms in a no-nonsense manner.

“Well, you know how I told you Dumbledore admitted to taking many things from the house—“

“Things you apparently forgot to demand back,” Remus interjected, his voice a low, throaty growl.

“Oh my Gods, sorry,” Sirius countered sarcastically. “We’ll deal with that later along with everything else that needs to be done. Now shut up for a second, would you? I’m trying to tell you how Voldemort only has five horcruxes!”

This did shut Remus up. In fact, in that moment it was as if the whole world had gone quiet. “How?”

“Okay so I don’t know this for certain, but I feel its true in every inch of my body. Liquid luck has that kind of affect on you,” Sirius admitted, and when no one spoke up to oppose this opinion, Sirius continued. Remus’s attention was so focused on Sirius’s words, he could hardly breathe. The intensity in the room was practically corporeal. “Dumbledore said he took a dagger from the house that night after we left. When I asked him about it, he told me it was Gryffindor’s dagger; I’m sure you remember me spouting on and on about it fifth year. It was the dragon-bone dagger one of Godric’s heirs lost during the Goblin Rebellion.”

“What’s your point,” Snape interrupted.

“My point is, Dumbledore assumed the Potters had been in possession of this particular artifact, passed down from generation to generation just like the cloak, but I know James. James Potter couldn’t keep a secret, and even if he could, he wouldn’t. Not with me. And I was obsessed with that dagger for years, always coming up with mad ideas about where it might have disappeared to or who might own it now. There was no way James could hold in the fact that his family had it. So the conclusion was obvious. Someone else must have brought it into the house: Voldemort.”

Remus furrowed his brows as his brain worked overtime to follow Sirius’s logic. His reasoning was sound, if a bit convoluted, but Remus was certain that most of this was the felix felices talking. While he didn’t have much interaction with the complex potion, he had heard stories of breakthroughs by inventors and such who dabbled with the lucky liquid that were so complicated, they couldn’t even be understandably explained. At least Sirius was making some sense.

“So, Voldemort took a knife to kill the Potters,” Tonks asked.

“Yes— well, no actually,” Sirius retracted. “I believe he wanted to turn the dagger into a Horcrux, and use Harry’s death to split his soul during the ritual.”

“Fuck,” Remus muttered. “That actually makes sense.” Remus twirled around and began pacing as his mind raced. Severus was acting similarly parallel to him.

“How did he even come into possession of Gryffindor’s dagger,” Severus mused aloud.

“Probably the same way he received Slytherin’s locket,” Sirius answered from his spot between Tonks and Charlie. “One of my more prominent theories concerning the whereabouts of that dagger were that Warner Sayre, a descendent of Salazar Slytherin, had stolen it during the Battle of Vart and escaped with it, never to be seen or heard from again. Many believe he died in the battle, but a body was never recovered. It’s possible that he continued his sire-line while living in Whales and that sire-line was eventually married into the Gaunt family. Dagger and locket both passed down to Merope who later sold them to Borgin and Burkes and eventually landing in the hands of Tom fucking Riddle.”

“Where’s the dagger now,” Remus asked.

“Albus said he has it on display in the trophy room next to Godric’s sword.”

“We should have it examined, but it seems unlikely that Dumbledore would fail to notice the presence of a soul within the blade,” Snape concluded. “I’ll check it out once I’m back at Hogwarts.”

Remus paused in his pacing and turned to Severus. “Do you think you could pilfer it under the Headmaster’s nose?”

Sev halted his own steps and furrowed his brows over at Remus. “Why?”

“Well… I was thinking it’s a fairly big target. Dumbledore seems to have once again painted a bulls-eye on the school. Between this and the sorcerer’s stone Voldemort will probably try anything to infiltrate Hogwa—“

“The what?!”

Three sets of eyes landed on the young redheaded wizard who’s eyes were wide and who’s mouth was agape.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, did you just say the sorcerer’s stone,” Tonks inquired.

Remus winced, because the more he heard about the stone, the more ludicrous the whole situation regarding it sounded.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Sirius groaned, running a tired hand through his hair. “We seriously need to consider making a list so we can keep track of who knows what. I mean, this is just getting ridiculous. The amount of shite we are keeping secret from some and not others could fill volumes. I mean, I know we just found out yesterday, but we really should have told Tonks and Charlie about the bloody stone by now. That’s important fucking information.”

Remus nodded his head in agreement. Wasn’t he just contemplating how many secrets he was keeping and how hard it was getting to keep things straight? It was bloody frustrating. The werewolf turned his attention toward the two youngest members of their inner circle and confirmed their question. “Yes, the sorcerer’s stone. That’s what was in the vault that Dumbledore had emptied back in September. He’s keeping it in the school and we suspect he’s using it to lure in Voldemort’s spy within Hogwarts.

“Well… his other spy,” Snape grumbled.

There was a pause before Charlie uttered a dumbfounded, “Wow.”

“Yes, I believe those are everyone’s sentiments,” Severus agreed.

“So,” Remus continued, turning back to Snape. “Do you think you can nick the dagger?”

Severus seemed to ponder that for a minute. “Maybe. It might cause some unnecessary suspicion, especially if Albus has any notion at all of Voldemort’s desire for the founder’s artifact, but I’ll look into… it…”

Remus looked up from the floor as Snape’s words faded away and focused his attention on the polyjuiced professor. His friend was staring off into the distance, eyes unfocused and Remus knew what that meant. He glanced to his right and shared a knowing look with Sirius. They both smiled and waited patiently for their best mate to spill his most recent revelation.

“Founders,” Snape breathed out, the word quickly followed by a derisive chuckle. “All accounts say he was obsessed with the number seven, so however it is that he discovered the method in which to create a Horcrux, he would want to make five more so that his soul would be split into seven parts. But what would he use? His mother’s ring was easy. It was a precious heirloom that he probably put a lot of importance into, and the locket… Slytherin’s locket. Both are reminders of whom he was descended from. But he wouldn’t want the other horcruxes to be ordinary items. No no no. He tracked down Hufflepuff’s cup and somehow obtained Gryffindor’s dagger. He must have wanted a complete set. That man would not be satisfied otherwise. One of the other Horcruxes is a relic of Rowena Ravenclaws.”

Remus nodded, satisfied with this assumption. He took out his wand and conjured his notepad that he had left sitting on his bed back in the Essex house. Taking a quill, he added a few new notes.

Horcruxes (6):  
Gaunt Ring- Discovered, waiting to be destroyed  
Slytherin Locket- Discovered, waiting to be destroyed  
Hufflepuff Cup- Unknown whereabouts  
Ravenclaw Artifact  
Unknown item  
Gryffindor Dagger- was potential sixth Horcr—

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Remus muttered, his quill halting mid-word as he fell back into an armchair near the doorway unable to finish the last of his notes. “Bollocks,” he whispered as he flung the pad and vanished it back to his bedroom with a flick of his wand. His head lulled back and he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Oh no, what did you find out,” Sirius asked.

Remus sighed before winking open any eyelid to find the stormy grays of Sirius Black’s. He winced. “He didn’t finish creating his horcruxes, Padfoot. It will be the first thing Voldemort does when he returns to full health. There will be six, just as he always planned. And who knows who who’ll deem worthy enough to kill for the ritual…”

“He’ll go after Harry again,” Sirius concluded.

“Okay everyone,” Tonks piped up with a clap of her hands. “We’re done with this cheery conversation thank you very much. The amount of revelations this past half hour has been astonishing to say the least, but I’m quite done with it. Let’s go downstairs and unload all this information onto our guests instead, yeah?”

Severus and Sirius groaned when they were reminded of the Order meeting that was supposed to be happening, but Remus shot up from his seat with newly found determination, that Gryffindor courage he possessed rearing it’s beautiful head. “Fantastic idea Dora. You and Charlie should head down first, so you don’t look like you’re part of the inner circle. We’ll follow behind you shortly.”

Charlie and Tonks nodded before stepping out of the room and Remus listened to their footsteps as they clambered down the staircase. He then turned his attention to Sirius and Severus, their faces both set in stubborn sobriety. “Ready?”

“No,” Sirius admitted, but the wry grin that settled on his lips was enough to cut the tension in the room.

“Are you ready,” Snape asked.

Remus paused for only a split second before stiffly nodding his head in answer. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s do this,” Sirius cheered sarcastically. “I just can’t wait to ruin the happy ignorance all my friends and family have been living with for the past ten years! Oh and it’s not like they’ll be angry with us for keeping such an exceptional secret from them all this time. No, not at all.”

Remus snorted. “Eventually they’ll forgive us.”

“Yeah… but all the yelling in the meantime—“ Sirius frowned just picturing it. “Should be interesting.”

“It’s not too late to change our minds and retreat,” Severus suggested playfully.

Sirius and Remus guffawed in unison. “Gryffindors do not retreat,” Sirius stated primly, knocking Severus’s shoulder with his own affectionately.

“Fine, but I’ve dealt with Molly Weasley a few times over the years in regards to her children. So, I’ll let you deal with her today,” Snape offered.

“Coward,” Sirius quipped.

“Very much so,” Snape concurred proudly. “Cowardice keeps my eardrums safe. Good luck with that then.”

Remus took a deep soothing breath and turned toward the door. It was time.

As the three men made their way down the steps in psychically agreed upon silence, Severus suddenly tapped Remus on the shoulder. He glanced over and Severus held up a small vial of liquid he recognized easily. “I’m sorry it took so long,” Sev whispered as he placed the wolfsbane potion into Remus’s outstretched hand. “Are you feeling alright?”

Remus smiled. “Actually, I’m great. Charlie had me covered.” Severus and Sirius raised their eyebrows in twin expressions of surprise and curiosity. “I’ll explain later.”

There was a soft murmuring amongst the ten guests gathered in the various accommodations that littered the house’s living room. It all died down once the three men had stepped into the small clearing the house-elves had created earlier that morning.

Remus cleared his throat as he made eye contact with each witch and wizard in the room. “Welcome. Sorry for the wait.” Remus glanced to his left and right where Sirius and Severus looked up at him encouragingly. He took a deep breath and forged on. “What I’m about to confess to you all, you may not want to believe, but I’m afraid to tell you that I speak the truth.”

This was it. Ten years. One decade. All that time and he had never told a soul. He thought it would be freeing, that he would feel liberated. But he didn’t. He felt like he was unraveling years of perfectly woven secrets. Once this was done, he would have to reconstruct the braids in his mind to make sure secrets that should never be uttered aloud, remained unspoken. It was paramount to the safety of his family. But for now, it was time to divulge a few nuggets of information, because that too was paramount. They couldn’t defeat Tom Riddle alone. They needed help. And for their safety as well, the guests here today needed to learn the truth.

“Voldemort is alive.”

***

This is not good.

Throughout Remus’s speech, Tonks watched the new order members with keen eyes. Every new announcement garnered a different reaction from each person.

Director Bones gave the least away in her movements, but over the last year Tonks had learned to tell the minuscule differences between her boss’s expressions. Today, Tonks could see a hint of disappointment (probably because of the three mens’ decision to lie all this time), but, for the majority, Bones’ expression held that fierce determination that so often lined her face. By far, Amelia’s reaction was the best.

The Longbottoms were a bit easier to read, but with their Auror training, it was difficult to tell if the brilliant duo were angry with their friends for keeping secrets from them or just angry with the whole situation in general. Either way, their outrage was evident to anyone with practiced analyzing skills, like herself or Sirius. The former hit wizard eyed his friends wearily from time to time, but Tonks noticed him sigh with relief about fifteen minutes into Remus’s speech. Apparently Sirius had deduced what Tonks couldn’t; Frank and Alice were simply incensed by the mere thought of Voldemort’s return. After that little insight, Tonks watched as their anger turned to worry.

The same couldn’t be said for the likes of Molly Weasley however. With each passing minute, Charlie’s mum’s face grew a shade darker and darker until her skin almost became the color of her hair. From the way her sons shifted uncomfortably in their seats in front of her, Tonks thought it safe to assume that Molly was not mad just because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named turned out to be not-so-dead. She would be the first to blow her lid after this was all over with, Tonks was sure about that.

But it wasn’t Mrs. Weasley that had Tonks so terrified that things had gone badly here today. Nor was it the way Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass looked neither worried, nor angry, but instead pensive and curious (although to be honest, that was a cause for concern that she would have to speak with the inner circle about at a later date). 

No. What had Tonks truly troubled was the way her own parents were reacting to the news. Throughout the speech, Mr. and Mrs. Tonks grew rigid, their spines straightening to a point. They held themselves high, their postures almost regal. Their expressions were ones of determination, but unlike Director Bones, who’s was fierce and heated, their determination was calm, almost serene. Nymphadora Tonks had only seen this expression on her parents’ faces once before, on the night she graduated from Hogwarts and merely expressed the idea of joining the Auror academy. The next thing she knew, Tonks was working toward her healing license at St. Juniper’s. Ted and Andromeda Tonks had made their minds up about something just now and Tonks knew that they would subtly get their way if she wasn't careful. If any of the inner circle weren’t extremely cautious, they might find themselves under the Tonks family’s special brand of ire, and who knew where that would lead. Tonks was frightened to find out.

“…In conclusion, we need help discovering how to destroy a horcrux, where to find the remaining three not currently in our vaults, and hopefully convince a few more witches and wizards that Voldemort is returning, so that when he does, they might be properly prepared for it. Also, we will need a new place to hold any future meetings, so if you have an idea on that, please let us know…” Remus took a deep breath and Tonks couldn’t help but join him. With the speech over with, she felt just a tiny bit relieved, but that feeling did not last long. “And finally, we have decided to enforce a rule. To leave here this evening, you have two options. We will not be betrayed again, so if you want to keep this newfound knowledge, we have decided that you must perform a wizard’s oath that states that you will not discuss horcruxes to anyone outside of the members of the Order of the Dragon. If you choose not to make this oath, we will wipe your memory of this meeting and you can be on your way.”

Tonks silently groaned, her eyes falling closed so that she wouldn’t have to see the panicked faces of the people around her. To Remus’s credit, he sounded deeply apologetic for this plan of action and anyone who knew him could tell he wished there was a different way to protect this terrible secret from getting back to Voldemort’s followers. When the shocked silence lasted longer than the inner circle expected after this announcement, Tonks winked open an eyelid. Remus stood stoic and tall, Sirius and Steven in similar states on either side of him.

“We will give you time to discuss your two options,” Remus stated firmly. “But if you try to leave this house without making a choice, you will be forcefully obliviated.” 

The werewolf stared down each and every wizard in attendance before promptly ending his speech by leaving the room, Sirius and Steven remaining behind as was planned earlier in the week. Charlie and Tonks were supposed to remain as well in order to convince their families that this was the right decision, but Tonks couldn’t deal with the twin expressions on her parents’ faces any longer. Remus’s last proclamation had Ted and Andromeda sitting up even straighter in their seats, as impossible as that seemed mere moments ago, and if Tonks stayed a second longer, she was bound to get into an argument that she couldn’t take back.

“I need some water,” Tonks croaked, before shooting off the wall she had been leaning against and sprinting to the kitchens. She rushed to the faucets and cupped her hands under the running water, splashing her face a few times with the cool liquid. It was then that she felt the presence of someone other than Pippy behind her. Shutting off the faucet, she spun around slowly, praying to all the gods that the face that greeted her belonged to anyone other than her mum or dad. “Well,” Tonks sighed, “this is deja vu.”

The woman shut the door to the kitchens behind her before facing Tonks directly, her arms folded in front of her. “And you are just full of surprises, aren’t you Miss Bolt?”

***

***Three weeks earlier***

It was another long Monday, and although it wasn’t the start of her work week, Nymphadora Tonks, otherwise known as Natasha Bolt, considered Mondays to be the actual worst. Tonks gathered up the paperwork on the latest case she had been working on and strode out of the bullpen, heading toward the offices in the back reserved for the head Aurors. Alice Longbottom had returned from her maternity leave a month ago and was working hard to get back on track. Tonks was more than willing to help her out with the annoying administrative work as long as the female Head Auror Longbottom remembered her sacrifice the next time she needed an underling to accompany her on a case.

Tonks stepped into Alice’s office and, finding it empty, decided to leave the stack of parchment on her superior’s desk. Spinning around with a mental pat on her back, she came face to face with Alice Longbottom herself. 

“Oh, sorry Mrs. Longbottom. I was just dropping off that Anson Gregor case—“ An audible click of the door shutting and locking behind Alice halted Tonks’s explanation in it’s tracks. “Um…”

Alice stepped closer to Tonks. They were about the same height so this allowed their eyes to directly line up with each other. Alice tilted her head to the side and Tonks felt as if she were being inspected. “Can I— can I help you?”

“I found something interesting on your desk yesterday.”

Tonks stopped breathing for a second as her mind raced for anything incriminating on her desk, but she couldn’t come up with anything. “O-okay… uh…”

“It was a gift certificate for this gourmet restaurant in London.”

Tonks blinked. She cleared her throat. “So?”

“So I have this friend,” Alice explained, stepping around Tonks and taking a seat in one of the two guest chairs. Tonks remained where she stood, her arms and legs locked, debating whether to join Alice or escape through the door. Although, what would be the point of that? If Alice knew something, it seemed unlikely that she would let Tonks escape. So Tonks took a seat in the other guest chair.

“I happen to enjoy French cuisine, if you must know,” Tonks justified.

Alice simply smiled. “Ah, but that certificate isn’t for you… Is it?” Before Tonks could answer, Alice continued. “See, as I said, I have this friend. His birthday’s coming up, in four days actually. He thinks it’s absolutely hilarious that this restaurant has a sign out front that says ‘No Dogs Allowed’. He’s an animagus, so of course he would take great pleasure in eating at such an establishment. He’s sort of a child that way.”

Tonks would laugh, but she was too busy rolling her eyes at the absurdity of being caught by such a tiny piece of muggle paper. “So what are you saying, Alice?”

“I’m saying…” Alice sighed. “What are you doing here, Tonks?”

“I’m an Auror,” Tonks stated simply.

Alice heaved another large sigh and rubbed her face tiredly. “I don’t understand. Sweetie, why keep it a secret? Why disguise yourself? When I came across that certificate, I was quick to assume your true identity, but I had to make certain. So I looked up this Natasha Bolt. Her records are spotless. They’re real. For all intents and purposes Natasha Bolt exists. If she didn’t carry around a wand that so closely resembles Nymphadora Tonks’s I might have been fooled. How did you do this… and why?”

“Moody helped me with most of it,” Tonks admitted, and it wasn’t even a lie. Alastor Moody had helped her with most of the documents and identity verification. Mrs. Longbottom didn’t need to know Remus and Severus forged years of backstory for Natasha Bolt in the form of bogus news articles and fake Ilvermorny admissions. Steven Prince was constructed in a similar manner ten years prior. “And I’m in disguise because I don’t want my parents to know.”

“They don’t know?!”  
“They would not approve,” Tonks gritted out through clenched teeth.

“They are your parents, Tonks! You can’t keep a secret like this from them.”

Tonks almost laughed aloud for this secret wasn’t even the worst of it. She was keeping far worse confidential information from her family. “You don’t know them like I do. Trust me, Alice. If you tell them, they will do everything in their power to keep me from pursuing this career. And they have a lot of power.”

Tonks pictured her mother sitting in for Harry at the Wizengamot, her posture imposing and noble. Andromeda Tonks was on twenty different boards, overseeing hundreds of charitable organizations. She was a force to be reckoned with. Tonks pictured her father’s large office at St. Mungo’s where he was Residency Director, in charge of all the mediwitches and mediwizards that worked there. Being recognized by the Black family eleven years ago, having their ambitions backed up by Lord Black himself, had lead the older couple to achieve everything they so desired. That power had gone to their heads and Tonks had been wondering for awhile now if they would have acted similarly if her family had never been restored to their “rightful” place under the umbrella of the Black family aristocracy.

“You can’t tell them,” Tonks reiterated.

There was a long bout of silence as the two women simply stared at each other. Finally, Alice nodded her head. “Fine. But one day, you will, right? Because I couldn’t imagine one of my children pursuing such a dangerous job without me knowing.”

“Oh, Neville hasn’t told you he’s running an illegal dueling club at Hogwarts,” Tonks simpered.

Alice rolled her eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Harry and Draco were telling me all about it. They say it’s such fun.”

“Auror Bolt,” Alice snapped and Tonks held in the laugh that threatened to burst forth.

“Yes, Auror Longbottom?”  
“I want these on my desk by tonight,” Alice said, picking up another stack of paperwork and shoving them into Tonks’s waiting hands.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh,” Alice called out just before Tonks could escape back to the bullpen. Tonks turned slightly to look over her shoulder, raising a blonde eyebrow in question. “This conversation is not over. Just… on hold.”

Tonks sighed. “Yes ma’am.”

***

***Present***

Tonks scowled over at Alice. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh I think you do,” Alice declared plainly. “I was listening to Remus’s speech, Tonks. The part about the unicorn was particularly enlightening.”

Tonks gnashed her teeth together to keep from incriminating herself.

Alice sighed. “Come on, Tonks. Are you part of this? You’re part of this, aren’t you?”

Tonks rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. This had been the hour from Hell, truly. “Yes, and I was the one who suggested a new Order in the first place. Although I didn’t come up with the name. Order of the Dragon was entirely Sirius’s idea.”

Alice snorted despite herself, but she quickly sobered. The older witch ran a hand through her long, dark hair, and Tonks could tell she was trying desperately to reign in her frustration. Eventually she seemed to calm down enough to return her hazel gaze back to Tonks’s own light green. “Are you alright? Are you safe?”

Tonks grinned, relief flooding her veins. It seemed the time for disappointed disagreements was over now and was replaced instead with Alice’s concerned mother routine. “I’m fine. Really, I am.”

Alice smiled before growling in exasperation. “Oh for Merlin’s sake. I wish I could just be angry with all of you, but no. Instead I’m fretting like a mother hen over you imbeciles and wishing someone had told me sooner so I knew keeping you safe was a priority. I hate this.”

“I felt the same way,” Tonks agreed. “Trust me, it’s better than the alternative. Did you see Molly’s face? Her worry is only for her children and no one else. The rest of us… I’m pretty sure she would like to set us all on fire.”

Alice grimaced. “Do you think she’ll choose to be obliviated,” she asked, her voice laced with hope.

“Not hardly,” Tonks scoffed. “Her children though… I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Poor Bill. Poor Charlie.”

“Mostly poor Bill,” Tonks reiterated. “Charlie doesn’t have to spend the rest of the holidays with her.”

“Good point.”

There was another long bout of silence, but it wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. “Are we alright,” Tonks asked.

“Yeah. We’re alright.” Suddenly Alice’s face lit up, as presumably an idea sprang to mind. “I have to go discuss something with my husband real quick.”

“Okay…”

“I just think I might have a plan for where the Order of the Ph— Dragon can meet from now on. If I can convince him before anyone leaves, we can get the new location out ASAP.”

“Sounds great.”

“See you later, Tonks.”

“Bye.”

After Alice left, Tonks turned her attention to the little house elf who grinned up at her. “Shut up,” she laughed.

“Pippy not say a word.”

“It’s called sarcasm, Pippy.”

The small creature giggled prettily. “Can Pippy get you a spiced pumpkin juice, Miss Tonks?”

“Just Tonks, Pippy,” she corrected. “And, yes please. Can you add some fire whiskey by chance?”

“Master Lupin ordered all the alcohol off the premises. He no want Sirius to drink today.”

“Of course,” Tonks said with a shake of her head. Remus Lupin. Always one to plan in advance. “Just a regular pumpkin juice then, Pippy— actually, make it two,” Tonks added when she spotted a familiar redhead outside the door.

With two mugs of spiced pumpkin juice, Tonks made her way out of the kitchen and down the hall, plopping herself on the floor beside the eldest Weasley child. “Wotcher Bill.” 

Tonks held out one of the mugs in offering which was accepted with a wry grin. “Thanks Nymy.”

“I will slap you,” Tonks warned, wincing at the name choice. Bill Weasley was the only one who ever called her by such a horrid nickname and he simply refused to refer to her by anything else. He claimed to enjoy being threatened by little Nymy Tonks. “And that’s a nice cloak you have on there, Bill. I wouldn’t want to get hot pumpkin juice all over it. Or, you know, blood.” Bill simply grinned wider and honestly, Tonks was far too exhausted to keep up the threats. So she gave up. Instead she asked, “Are you hiding?”

“What gave it away,” Bill asked as he took a sip of his hot cider.

“Well, that’s what I was doing, so I recognized the attempt.” Bill grunted in understanding. “So,” Tonks said, “who are you hiding from?”

Bill glanced at Tonks out of the corner of his eye. “Who do you think,” Bill asked rhetorically.

“Ah. Well, I’m also hiding from my parents so… I guess that means we make quite a pair.”

“Cheers to that,” Bill muttered and they clinked mugs.

The two sat in comfortable silence, both sipping intermittently at their hot beverages on this cool winter evening. “So,” Tonks voiced, deciding to break the silence. “How’s Egypt?”

Bill smirked. “Hot.”

“That’s it? Just… hot? How enlightening.”

Bill tilted his head in Tonks’s direction, glaring playfully. “Fine, I can be more informative, I suppose. Egypt is… boring.”

Tonks gaped at the redhead next to her. “Seriously?”

Bill sighed, setting his mug down on the wood floor beside him. “I know, Egypt was my dream. But as soon as I got there… I don’t know. I thought navigating ancient ruins would be fascinating, but I feel like I’m— I’m not helping people. It seems like a waste of my talents as a curse breaker, you know?”

Tonks pondered that for a moment, but eventually decided that she agreed. “Yeah I understand. I know what it’s like to not want to waste your talents.”

Bill tilted his head in contemplation. “Being a healer seems like a waste of yours.”

“It would have been,” Tonks concurred, before smiling into her pumpkin cider.

“Would have been? So I take it you’re not going to school for that anymore?”

“Correct,” Tonks admitted.

“Do your parents know?”

Tonks scowled as she was reminded once again that this secret should not be kept from her parents. It was becoming ridiculous. “If they knew, I’m certain they would have talked me out of it by now.”

“I’m surprised anyone could talk little Nymy Tonks out of doing what she wanted.”

Tonks blinked. “Huh. That is… odd.”

Bill’s smile faded. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sure you could embrace that inner Gryffindor we have in all of us and stand up to your parents.”

Tonks’s frown deepened. Bill was right. She had always done whatever she felt like and nothing would stand in her way. She demanded the sorting hat to be a Hufflepuff because she felt that house had the most fun. She dropped Ancient Runes even though it would have looked fantastic on a resume, because it conflicted with divination, a course that Tonks found strangely fascinating, despite the absurdity of it all. From day one, she flaunted her metamorphmagus abilities when her fellow students asked, despite knowing it should have been kept a secret. So… it was a bit strange that three years previously, she had gone to Healer training despite how little enthusiasm she held for that career path. “Right…”

“Hey, really, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Bill reiterated, now turning his full attention to Tonks. “You can tell your parents about whatever this new job is when you’re ready. Merlin knows it took me ages to tell mum about my passion for curse breaking.”

Tonks grinned softly before shifting her position on the floor so that she was giving Bill her full attention as well. “So are you coming home then, Bill Weasley? Had enough of that desert heat yet?”

Bill smiled softly back. “Do you want me to come home Nymy?”

“Not if you keep calling me that.”

“What if I promise to never call you that again?”

Tonks snorted. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep William.” Tonks stood from her spot upon the floor and brushed imaginary dust from her black muggle coat. Pippy kept this place spotless. She was a brilliant little house elf. Tonks had always had a soft spot for Pippy.

“Where are you going,” Bill asked, also rising from the ground and leaning gracefully against the wall.

“I’ve decided to go support Charlie. I’m certain he’s getting an earful from your mother right now.”

Bill groaned in jest, but eventually removed himself from the wall and slid into step beside Tonks who lead them back to the large living room. There, things were already in full swing.

“…to use his name so casually, it’s frankly unethical! There is a reason we call him he-who-must-not-be-named! He was a dangerous man—“

“Is. He is a dangerous man, Molly,” Sirius spoke up. “And if you don’t like calling him Voldemort, which, as was mentioned by Remus, is a completely made up name, I would understand. How about you call him Tom Riddle instead? Is that better. Frankly I see no reason to give weight to a name. Fearing the name only makes the fear worse—“

“And you,” Molly shrieked. “How dare you bring my son into this! He is only twenty-two years old—“

“Well that’s a year older than I was when I found out Voldemort continued to live, and two years older than I was when I joined the Order of the Phoenix,” Sirius countered.

“That is a secret organization, Sirius Black,” Arthur Weasley spoke up.

“Oh bollocks! I thought so too, until every person I met seemed to already know of it’s existence, so let’s not kid ourselves here, Arthur.”

Tonks looked to her left and mouthed at Bill, “Did you know?”

Bill nodded. “You,” he mouthed back.

Tonks snorted before nodding in answer and returning her attention to the argument at hand.

“—and to loop us in with these filthy Slytherins,” Molly practically hissed, indicating Mrs. Greengrass and Tonks’s mother. “And then threatening us with obliviation, just because we don’t want to make an unbreakable vow and pledge our loyalty to you—“

“MUM!”

One word from the mouth of Charlie Weasley had the entire house silent in milliseconds. The youngest wizard in attendance stepped up to his mother and stared down into her mud-brown eyes. “Never,” he stated, “make a derisive comment about Slytherins again. You can yell and scream all you want about my involvement in this cause, because I know it comes form a place of love and protection. I understand that. But not all Slytherins are evil just like not all Gryffindors are good.”

“Charlie—“

“And also, the unbreakable vow was my idea. These men were betrayed by someone very close to them once upon a time, and I wasn’t about to let that happen again. So the oath thing was my suggestion.”

“But that would mean you already knew… everything,” Charlie’s dad uttered, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Charlie turned his blue gaze on his father, and smiled sadly. “Yeah. Yeah I already knew, Dad. I haven’t known for very long, but I knew.” Charlie glanced back down at his mum who hadn’t moved an inch in her shock. “Sorry mum. I’m not going to choose to be obliviated, like you want. And I’ve already decided to make the vow, back when we were trying to come up with the right wording to keep everyone safe from unintended loopholes. I will not discuss horcruxes with anyone outside of the members of the Order of the Dragon. Horcruxes are important, Mum, and if Voldemort— yes Voldemort, I’m not afraid to say his name— if Voldemort finds out we know about his Horcruxes, he will be more dangerous than ever. It’s an easy vow and unfortunately it doesn’t encompass all the ways any member of this Order, present or future, can betray us, but it’s a start. You can’t stop me from joining this Order, because it’s too late. I’m already a member. I love you both so much. Have a happy Christmas. I’ll see you at home.”

“Can you tell Muriel and Ginny we’ll be there soon,” Molly suddenly asked. 

Charlie paused in the doorway. “Actually that last part I was talking to Sirius. I’ll see Sirius at home. His home.”

And with that, Charlie walked through those doors, Bill running after him, presumably to say goodbye.

Everyone else in the house returned their attention to the redheaded couple who stood in states of shock beside Sirius, Remus, and Steven. Molly swallowed audibly before standing up straighter and eyeing Sirius balefully. Arthur did similarly beside her.

“I thought this was your house,” Arthur beseeched.

Sirius shrugged. “It’s one of them.”

Molly stuck a pointy finger into Sirius’s chest. “I swear to Merlin if you hurt my boy, I will not hesitate to hurt you back a thousand times over,” she threatened.

“Noted,” Sirius sneered.

“Good,” Molly declared, with one last poke to the chest. “Now,” she continued, holding out her right hand, “Let me make this vow so I can leave. And you tell my son when you see him, that I love him too and I’ll see him on New Years Eve.”

Tonks smiled secretly before excusing herself from the rest of the proceedings. But the second she stepped out of the living room, she came face to face with her parent.

“Uh— hi,” Tonks greeted kindly even though her intuition was telling her to run. When did she start feeling this way about her own parents? It was strange.

“Hello darling,” her Mum replied. “Listen your dad and I were talking…”

“And we fear that this is far too dangerous…”

“We think you should focus on your schooling, sweetheart…”

“For healing is very important, dear…”

Their back and forth was dizzying, and the way they guided Tonks down the corridor, their arms draped over her shoulders or around her waist, she felt like she was a ship gently gliding over the gentle wake of the sea. It was getting hard to focus. What was going on?

“We simply suggest you perhaps take the second option…”

“You are just a young woman after all…”

Are they proposing I have myself obliviated, so I can pursue my healing career in blissful ignorance? Wait— that doesn’t sound right? What am I missing here? Right— I don’t want to be healer. That’s right. I’m an— what am I? An…? An…?

“What’s going on,” Tonks heard herself ask, but she heard it as if she were outside her body or underwater surrounded by melodious mermaids. She’d felt this before, but where? When? The answer was at the edge of her subconscious, but she couldn’t grasp it. She was losing it. It was fading.

No, come back, she begged. Come back. Something’s wrong. I don’t want to be obliviated. I’m part of the inner circle for Merlin’s sake. Sirius and Remus… and Charlie and Severus… they trust me. I’m— they trust me. And I trust them. And if I’m not there doing my job as a— as an— Auror! I’m an Auror. And I have felt this before. All that training. So much training to counteract this curse. Oh my gods. I’m being imperiused!

Like coming out of a thick fog into a clear, sunny day, her conscious thoughts flitted back to the forefront of her mind and she immediately put up walls around it. Her parents were still guiding her around the house like she was a child who had just seen their pet owl die, and perhaps that was an accurate description of her current state. Tonks was drifting along, eyes wide and alarmed, as her parents’ soothing voices permeated her hearing. She didn’t know what to think. Her own parents had just performed an illegal spell on her and she felt like crying and screaming, but could only continue the hypnotic walk around the maze that was Sirius’s home in Hogsmeade.

“So does that sound like a deal kiddo,” her dad asked on her right.

“We just want you to be safe,” her mom added on her left as they neared the living room once more.

Tonks nodded her head despite herself, her mind reeling from what she had just learned. What was she going to do?

“Well then go on, sweetheart. We’ll be right here when you’re done.”

Tonks nodded her head again, and she was ever so happy that her expression of surprise so closely resembled the expression someone might have when they were under the imperius curse.

Curse. My parents put me under a curse. An unforgivable curse! These were her thoughts as she stepped up to the three men who had been her confidantes these last four months. The men who were upset that she had secretly become an auror, but would never force her out of that decision against her will. They wanted her to be safe, much like Molly and Arthur wanted their children to be safe…

“Hey Dora, are you alright,” Remus asked. “You look a bit— I don’t know… lost. Are you feeling okay.”

Tonks nodded her head, which apparently was all she was able to do with her body. She couldn’t change her expression or speak a single word. In fact she wouldn’t be surprised to find herself unable to say anything ever again. She would be mute for the rest of her life— 

No! No, her parents were not taking this away from her. This was her life. Tonks knew they were watching from the archway that lead to the dining room, but she didn’t care. She held out her right hand. “I’m ready to make the vow.”

Remus and Sirius glanced at each other and Severus eyed her curiously. “Tonks—“

“Do it,” she spit out, cutting Severus off quickly. She could feel her parents’ eyes on the back of her head and she needed to make this vow before they noticed. It suddenly felt like the right thing to do.

Her eyes must have held some kind of glint that implored the three men in front of her to do as she asked, for Sirius simply took her hand in his and Severus flicked his wand intricately, creating a thin tongue of brilliant flame to bind their hands during the ritual.

“I swear I will not discuss horcruxes to anyone outside of the members of the Order of the Dragon.”

“Nymphadora, what are you doing?!”

Tonks ignored her mother’s stern tone and it seemed Sirius was taking a note out of her book when he continued the spell despite the interruption. “I hear your oath and agree to its terms,” Sirius confirmed.

“I bind this vow with my magic,” Snape finished, and once the spell was complete and the chain made of fire had receded back into Severus’s wand, Tonks turned to Remus and demanded, “Don’t let them follow me." She then made a bee-line for the door, emerging into the cool evening air where the sun was just about to set over the horizon, the clouds having disappeared earlier in the day.

She was breathing heavily and unsure of where to go. Her parents knew her flat’s address and although she trusted herself to keep her whits about her should they try to use that curse on her again, she would rather not see them right now.

She felt a presence behind her and was deeply relieved when it was only her old Potion’s professor.

“What’s going on,” he asked plainly.

“I—I—“ She couldn’t say it out loud. It was too horrible.

“Hey,” Severus whispered calmly. “Hey it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. Just, let me know if this has something to do with your parents. Does it have something to do with them?”

Tonks nodded slowly and she could feel her eyes brimming with tears.

Snape acknowledged her answer with a nod of his own. “Okay… is it bad? As in, really bad?”

Tonks looked off into the distance as she tried to find any semblance in which this whole situation wasn’t absolutely terrible. But she couldn’t reconcile their betrayal into any kind of positive light. What they did was wrong. So very very wrong. She looked back at Severus and nodded again.

“Right,” Snape breathed. “Ok. What do you want us to do?”

Tonks hesitated for only a second before declaring, “Obliviate them.”

Severus looked crestfallen. “It’s that bad…” It wasn’t a question.

“Please obliviate them. Just— please.”

“Here,” Severus said, handing over a tiny card. “It’s the address where the next order meeting is being held. Sirius is the secret keeper.”

Tonks accepted the card and spun on her heel. “Thanks professor,” she called over her shoulder.

“You’re welcome, I suppo—“

Tonks disapparated away before Snape could finish his sentence. She appeared in the alleyway behind her London flat and sprinted up the steps of the fire escape where she eventually came to her bedroom window. She unlocked it with a quick alohamora and once she was safely in the confines of her bedroom, she flung herself onto her fourposter and wept, all her belongings flying off into various directions. 

She had no idea how long she laid their sobbing into her pillow, but when she next opened her eyes, the sun had set completely and darkness had settled over her magically enlarged flat. She reached for her wand and cast a quick lumos on the room’s many lanterns and muggle lamps, and blinked rapidly to adjust her sensitive eyes to the sudden brightness. She looked around the room and her gaze landed on the small piece of parchment Severus had given her before she left. She picked it up off the floor and read the address.

12 Grimmauld Place, London  
~Sirius Black

Tonks was surprised it didn’t burn up in her hands or rip itself into a million little pieces once she had read its contents. Secret keepers were usually so cautious of adding one of those little spells to the parchment so that sensitive information didn’t end up in the wrong hands. Tonks stood up from her bed, her body aching from being in one place for so long, and made her way to one of the lanterns. She would burn it for them. Just before she dropped the piece of parchment however, the noticed a bit of ink bleeding through from the other side of the missive. She quickly flipped it over.

93 Subury St, Essex  
~Severus Snape

After reading this address, the small note then proceeded to rip itself into shreds, many of the tiny pieces falling into the lantern to be destroyed even more thoroughly. Tonks watched the note until it disappeared completely before jumping to her feet and snatching her wand from her bed. She pulled an old trunk from her cupboards and flung her wand in the direction of her dressers, marching a few weeks worth of outfits into the luggage she had recently taken to Thistle Do Nicely in Diagon Alley to be placed with an undetectable extension charm. She flung her wand in the direction of her washroom and her toiletries danced out of the open doorway to also settle themselves nicely into her trunk which promptly closed with a snap. She grabbed the handle and finding it too heavy, then placed a feather-light charm on the bag, before promptly leaving her flat, extinguishing the lights inside with an over-the-shoulder nox.

“Hey neighbor,” came the tiny voice that she so often heard in first person these days.

“Oh, hi Emily,” Tonks replied nicely, as she secretly tucked her wand into the waistband of her muggle jeans. Jeans were the most brilliant invention Muggles ever created in Tonks’s opinion. Without a doubt they were the most comfortable item of clothing she owned, probably because she wore them so frequently, they lost any stiffness that once held them together. Tonks was fairly certain these trousers were only remaining intact by Tonks’s stubbornness and a hell-of-a-lot of magic.

“Are you leaving the city for the holidays,” Em asked, indicating the luggage at Tonks’s feet.

Tonks smiled for the first time in hours. “You know… I think I am. It’s kind of a spur of the moment thing. What about you?”

“Oh no. Actually my sister’s coming to the city to celebrate with me. Do you want me to watch your flat for you, Tasha?”

“That would be lovely, thank you. There isn’t much to do. I don’t have any pets or plants or anything. Just— if a package comes by for me, could you possibly keep it in your place until I return?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you… again.”

“Well have fun!”

“You too. Happy Christmas, Emily.”

“Happy Christmas, Natasha.”

Tonks picked up her trunk and made her way down the spiral staircase at the end of the hall. About halfway down, she turned on the spot while thinking of the second address on the slip of paper Snape had given her. She apparated into an open field, the only light coming from a house in the far distance. The anti-apparition wards around this place must have been expansive, but Tonks figured the wards had eleven years to become this fortified. Gathering up her trunk once more she strode toward the house, the cool night air keeping her thoughts clear and her mind sharp. After she climbed the steps to the wrap-around porch she stood in front of the large oak door of the country home for some time, her right fist raised but frozen. Eventually she found the nerve to knock.

Inside, she heard the sound of a chair scraping and padded feet across wood floor. The lock on the door unlatched and was pulled open to reveal the Lord of her house, Sirius Black.

“Tonks.”

“Hi,” she breathed. Tonks had promised herself that she wouldn’t shed another tear tonight, but that was proving very difficult at the moment. “Did you obliviate them?”

“Yes— well no, I had Snape do it. He’s better at it, but don’t tell him I told you so.” Tonks chuckled through the tears before flinging herself into Sirius’s arms. “It’s okay… I think,” he added, pulling her close to his chest and running a hand through her short hair affectionately. “Honestly I have no idea if it’s okay or not, Tonks. Are you ready to tell me what happened or no?”

Tonks leaned back and shook her head, wiping her nose with back of her hand.

“Alright… well, are you hungry?”

Tonks giggled. “Starving.”

“And thirsty too I bet.”

“You have no idea,” Tonks confirmed. “Please tell me Remus didn’t purge this house of alcohol as well?”

“Perish the thought. Moony doesn’t have the authority to do such a thing. Corey’s on my side when it comes to this house. Speaking of— Corey!”

A house elf popped in next to Sirius. “Yes, Sirius?”

Sirius grinned down at the small creature. “I told you Sev would bring home a stray. Hope you have that guest room ready.”

“Corey does, sir. May Corey takes your trunk, Mistress?”

“You can call me To—“ 

She froze because that name reminded her of parents who had had her imperiused. Could she ever use that name again? Fuck that, of course she could! Her parents didn’t own the rights to that name. She had gone by Tonks for twenty-one bloody years, and just because they happened to share it, doesn’t mean they could take that away from her too. She would always be Tonks. 

“—nks. Sorry about that. My name is Tonks,” she said in introduction.

“Welcome miss Tonkses. Dinner be serves very shortly.”

“Thank you Corey.” Tonks held out her trunk and the house elf took it easily, popping away again with little fanfare. She then glanced up at Sirius who was eyeing her worriedly. “After dinner,” she promised.

“Okay.”

***

“I wonder what happened.”

“She looked so sad at dinner.”

Snape’s gaze drifted from the book in his lap. He was reading the same passage over and over again without comprehending a single word anyway, so his Godsons’ non-whispers as they played wizard’s chess on the floor in front of the roaring fireplace was a welcome distraction.

“Boys,” Remus warned from his spot on the sofa across from Severus. He had been staring off into space for the last ten minutes, his mind otherwise preoccupied with the conversation Tonks was currently having with Sirius and Charlie in the dining room. At least Severus had tried reading to keep his mind off the young auror and her parents’ mysterious misdeeds. It didn’t work, but he could pretend.

“What, are we just supposed to sit here and act like our cousin’s sudden appearance at this house, a location that you have told us on multiple occasions is supposed to be a secret, isn’t strange? Or that she looked like she was about to cry every thirty seconds over her pot roast,” Draco asked.

“We’re just worried about her,” Harry added, turning toward Remus, their chess game completely abandoned by this point.

“I know,” Remus sighed. “So am I.”

Severus cleared his throat, garnering the attention of the three other inhabitants of the cozy den easily. “Alright listen here,” Severus stated clearly. “Obviously Tonks is deeply hurt, so don’t pester her for answers if she’s not willing to tell you what happened, understand?”

Draco leaned his head on his fist and nodded with an audible exhale.

“Okay,” Harry agreed.

“Okay,” Snape repeated definitively. “Now Harry, move that knight of yours to G2 for Checkmate.”

Draco guffawed at his Godfather, waving his hands in a gesture of confusion. “Why do you always help Harry, Uncle Steven?”

Severus snorted and shrugged his shoulders, returning his attention to the book that still lay in his lap. “Because Harry needs it,” he answered.

Without needing to look up again, Snape knew Harry was rolling his eyes. “Oh thanks ever so much,” Harry muttered sarcastically.

“You are welcome,” Snape plainly responded.

Just then, Sirius strutted into the large living area and all thought of chess disappeared. Draco and Harry shot up from the floor and rushed to their father’s side.

“Is she alright,” Draco demanded to know.

Sirius smiled before ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “She’ll be fine. Tonks just had an argument with her parents. She’ll be staying with us for a little while, so how about you and Harry go give her and Charlie a tour of the house?”

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously and Severus chuckled under his breath despite himself. “You’re just trying to make us leave so you can talk to Remus and Steven alone.”

Sirius smirked and leaned down a bit so his face was more even with his son’s. “Well once again you’ve proven yourself to be very perceptive. Congratulations. However, just because you found out about my diabolical ruse doesn’t mean it won’t still take affect. Now off you go.”

“Fine,” Draco sighed, stepping around his father, Harry right behind him.

“Oh, and if you bother Tonks about this, you best be certain this will not be a great holiday for you. Either of you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Harry called over his shoulder as they exited the den. “We already heard that little speech from Steven.”

Once the two eleven-year-olds were gone and out of earshot, Sirius turned his attention to Severus. “Did they now? Well, it never hurts to hear it again.”  
Severus snorted. “Also, mine didn’t come with a threat. That was new.”

Sirius chuckled for a moment but it quickly mutated into an anguished groan. His face fell into his open palms and he sank onto the coffee table behind him. Remus and Severus both sat up straighter in their respective accommodations, eyeing their friend with trepidation.

“Alright, lay it on us,” Remus demanded. Severus quickly and instinctively performed a muffliato charm on the area around them.

“It was the imperius curse…”

The sentence was muffled through the palms of hands that still clutched at Sirius’s face, but Severus and Remus heard every chilling word. It sent shivers down Snape’s spine and he brought a fist to his own mouth to stifle a gasp.

“What,” Remus practically snarled.

Sirius finally raised his head, but his gaze wouldn’t meet either of his friends’ directly. Instead his eyes remained unfocused, lost in a conversation Severus was suddenly glad he was not a part of. He was having a hard time keeping a cool head and Remus looked like he was on the verge of ripping someone to shreds with his bare hands.

“They tried to force Tonks into having herself obliviated,” Sirius explained, although his voice sounded faraway, almost haunting. “Of course they had no idea Tonks was trained at the Auror academy to counteract this curse. Or that we would have been quick to suspect something was wrong when she asked for her mind to be wiped as she is secretly part of the inner circle. They didn’t know these things when they tried. And Tonks seems to think they have used this curse on her once before. Only once… but still.” Sirius sighed to relieve the sudden constrictive tightening in his throat. “I’m inclined to believe her. I don’t think she would make this up…”

Severus could no longer look at Sirius anymore and glanced away, his hand stroking his chin in a calming manner. It did not help. “What does she want to do,” Snape asked. His voice sounded strained but he was happy to note it wasn’t in snarling territory yet. 

Yet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Sirius shake his head in disbelief. “She doesn’t want to do anything. And I am perfectly fine with that non-decision because I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do. I need some time. We both need time… to think.”

“What about Christmas,” Remus asked, although the question came out more like a statement that clearly meant, “She’ll spend Christmas with them over my dead body.”

“They were planning a trip to Sweden, and I’m going to write a letter explaining to them, in no uncertain terms, their daughter will not be joining them. Tonks is not leaving. Don’t worry.”

There was a long silence as Sirius let this information sink in. It was a horrible situation and Severus did not envy the people involved one bit. It was a convoluted mess of epic proportions and, not for the first time, Snape was supremely glad he wasn’t the Lord of one of the most powerful houses in the country. Because, honestly, fuck that shit. If given the choice, he’d choose being a polyjuiced double-agent over fucked-up family problems every single time.

“I’ve never wanted to hex someone so much in my entire life,” Sirius admitted. “And I’m actively hunting down the souls of a dark wizard who has murdered countless people in his quest for power. And I literally just had one of the most well-known and respected wizards in the country equate me to the likes of fucking Grindelwald after I found out he took one of my Godson’s precious heirlooms on the night his parents were murdered… by the psychopath I mentioned before.” Sirius snorted humorlessly. “This has truly been the day from hell.”

“For all of us, mate,” Severus confided. “It looks like the moon is about half an hour from reaching its apex, Lupin.”

Remus looked out the window to see for himself. “Yep.”  
“You should take that potion—“

“I already took it,” Remus interrupted. Severus and Sirius both raised an eyebrow in surprise. “The orb worked amazing, don’t get me wrong. But this was the day from hell, remember?”

Snape tipped his head in acknowledgement of this statement. “I can’t wait to study those orbs.”

“Nerd,” Sirius coughed into his fist. “It’s no wonder Dumbledore considers you one of his favorites.”

Severus would have done a legitimate spit-take if he were actually drinking something. “Excuse me!”

Sirius laughed. “I was trying to get a rise out of him earlier today and cement the fact that we’re still enemies, so I listed a few of his ‘favorite’ students, you among them. He didn’t bat an eyelash.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious.”

“That man hates me.”

“I know.” Sirius was having a hard time reigning in his laughter.

Severus shook his head and sighed. “Merlin. Well, this couldn’t possibly be the day from hell then, because surely hell has frozen over.”

Sirius and Remus laughed in unison.

Lupin stood up from his seat then. “Come on, Pads. Let’s go say goodnight to everyone.”

Sirius lifted himself off the coffee table and turned to Sev. “How’s your animagus form coming along?”

Snape grimaced. “Transfiguration has never been my strong suit Black. I think we should just give up on that particular dream—“

“I bet it’s a horse,” Sirius interrupted, completely ignoring Severus as they exited the den in search of the rest of the house’s residents. “Or maybe a panther.”

Severus side-eyed Sirius dubiously. “I doubt—“

“No, a bat! Of course, how have I not thought of that before?!”

“Sirius!”

“What? That would be an amazing animagus form?”

“What would,” Charlie asked as he, Tonks, Draco, and Harry rounded the top of the staircase.

“A bat,” Sirius answered quickly. “I mean, come on? Flying? How cool would that be?”

Severus glanced over at Sirius, shaking his head. “There are these things called broomsticks, you know?”

“Not the same,” Sirius countered.

“I think it sounds awesome,” Harry shouted excitedly. “I hope I’m a bat.

“I just want to learn already,” Draco exclaimed as he slid down the banister.

Sirius folded his arms as his son landed neatly in front of him. “I said fifteen years old. Do you want me to make you wait until you’re of age?”

Draco folded his arms in return. “No,” he muttered.

“Well then stop trying to convince me to teach you early. Fifteen. Got it?”

“Alright,” Draco sighed, unfolding his arms and letting them swing limply at his sides.

Harry hopped down the stairs and sidled up to his brother. “You’ll probably end up being a cockroach anyway. I wouldn’t get too excited.”

Draco tried to elbow Harry in the stomach but the brunette bounced away before he could do so. “Git,” Draco called out after his brother’s retreating form.

“Prat,” Harry retorted over his shoulder, running around the three adults to keep out of arm’s reach of the blonde.

“Alright you two,” Snape said, snatching the two boys by the collars as they tried to run past. “Your dad and Remus have to leave soon. Say good night.”

Psychically agreeing to a temporary truce, Draco and Harry hugged the two marauders good night.

“You’re leaving,” Tonks asked, her and Charlie both making their way down the stairs to join the rest of the household.

Sirius looked over the top of his son’s head at his young cousin. “Yeah. It’s the full moon, so I run with Moony, like always.”“Can I come with,” Tonks asked.

Sirius and Remus both paused and eyed the witch before them. Snape noticed she looked more herself suddenly and realized that it was because her hair was once again a vibrant magenta. It was nice to see.

“It’s still too dangerous for non-animagi,” Severus explained.

A smile slowly appeared on Tonks’s face and Severus heard Sirius groan to his left. “Please tell me you’re not…”

“I’ve been practicing since I found out about Remus in sixth year,” Tonks admitted. Next to her, Charlie had his mouth open wide in disbelief.

“Dora—“

“Please,” Tonks beseeched, interrupting Remus and grinning in a way that showed all her teeth.

Draco and Harry were giddy with excitement, desperately wanting to know what their cousin’s form would be. Charlie had recovered from his shock and looked curious himself. Sirius looked mildly concerned and Remus sighed heavily next to him. Severus, however, had a good feeling about this.

“Well then, Tonks, shall we see this form of yours?”

Tonks stepped off the bottom step and strode to the middle of the parlor floor. She faced the six wizards and smiled confidently. She then turned into a small red fox before their very eyes.

Severus couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he watched his friends’ eyes light up at the sight before them. They seemed unequivocally happy and Snape could understand why. For ten years it had been just the two of them. Two Marauders does not a pack make. With another animagus amongst them (an animagus who was perfectly part of the canine family as well) they might feel more whole. And this was Tonks. Someone they trusted with every fiber of their being. Severus was certain she’d be welcomed into the pack by midnight and receive her own nickname by dawn.

For a day from hell, the ending wasn’t quite as appalling as it once could have been.

“Brilliant,” Sirius quietly rejoiced. “Just… brilliant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Sorry for the month-long hiatus. It took me much longer to get back into writing after my brief holiday than I would have liked. To make up for it, here is a chapter that could have easily been split up into three chapters. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Also, so sorry for any Andromeda/Ted fans out there. This was a very hard chapter for me to write. (Mostly because I hate writing conflict and angst. It’s difficult for me because I love when it’s all sunshine and rainbows and adorable quippy dialogue.)
> 
> If you have a cute nickname for Tonks’s fox animagus form, please leave it in the comments. I have a few ideas myself, but I could always use some help.
> 
> Next up is Christmas… finally. Honestly, this story is beginning to be way too freaking long. Thank you once again to all my reviewers and followers. Love your faces.


	19. 1:19- It's Tradition, Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I’m so, so sorry. But guys, I did it! I’m back with a freaking long-ass chapter. To all of you who stuck around waiting for this chapter for the last three months, you are awesome. If this is good enough for you to forgive me for the wait, please skip the next couple paragraphs where I will proceed to give you several excuses.
> 
> 1\. It was hot. Summer here in California was absolutely miserable and I couldn't get myself to write about Christmas when it was so freaking hot out. With that in mind, I did end up writing parts of future chapters so look forward to that. I'm hoping there will be almost two straight months with no hiatus so that Part 1 can be finished and posted by the end of the year. If that happens, I'll be very proud of myself.
> 
> 2\. Game of Thrones started up again so I spent two weeks rewatching the first six seasons and then my Sundays for the next seven weeks were devoted to season seven of it’s amazingness. I had previously spent my Sundays writing DSB, so with that day no longer available, this story gradually ended up on the back burner. Worth it for GoT.
> 
> 3\. I was sick for a few days and randomly decided to watch Supernatural… It might have been a mistake. Three weeks later, I watched all 12 seasons, watched hundreds of interviews and fan vids on youtube, read hundreds of Supernatural fan fictions, and generally became obsessed. In fact, I made my own fan vid set to Dorothy’s Dark Nights and posted it to my youtube channel. (BingeMac again, what else?)
> 
> 4\. Netflix put out a live action Death Note movie (they screwed up Light so this movie can die in a hole for all I care), and of course that made me remember how much I loved the anime, so I took a few days to rewatch that and then read a few dozen fan fictions regarding this amazing property as well.
> 
> 5\. Teen Wolf. Haven’t watched season 6 yet, but the show is over now and I decided it was time to watch it. I’m practically in love with Dylan O’Brien (who was also freaking fantastic in American Assassin) and I can’t get enough of fan fictions where Stiles is a BAMF.
> 
> 6\. The CW superhero shows started up again and I hadn’t finished the last seasons yet so their went a couple of my weekends. And then I went into a CW spiral where I also watched iZombie, Riverdale, and the Originals. Thankfully I haven’t started reading any fan fictions for these shows and hopefully I never will, because I doubt you’ll see me again.
> 
> 7\. Also, I might have watched a lot of Will and Grace, Boy Meets World, and Friends again. I think I might need help.
> 
> Anyway, I really do hope you can forgive me for the wait. Honestly, though, you really should have expected this. “Binge” is in the username, people. Haha. However, I truly do love this piece of writing and I will try my hardest never to give up on it. Thank you to any new fans of DSB and for all the PMs and reviews I received asking me to start writing again. You are all amazing.

Remus and Draco apparated just outside the Granger household at three o’clock in the afternoon the day after Christmas. Remus grinned as Draco practically skipped down the muggle street scouring the houses for any sign that Hermione might live inside. Ignoring his pseudo-nephew, Remus turned up the walk of the closest house, a stone two-story building with a brick chimney jutting out of the shingled roof. He remembered how he felt the first time he saw the house a month earlier; it was as if he was home again with his mother and father in Brighton. Remus made his way up to the front door and rapped his knuckles lightly on the wooden frame. He heard the sound of Draco’s dress-shoes shuffle back down the quiet street to join him.

Grace opened the door with a warm smile and greeted Remus politely. The elder Grangers, Remus, and Sirius had grown quite close over the past month and Joss and Grace seemed much more adept at dealing with this magical world they had so recently been thrust into than they had previously. Remus was glad to be of service, anything to make Draco and Harry’s friend more comfortable at home and at school. He remembered how hard it was on Lily.

“Three on the dot. You are a punctual one aren’t you, Remus,” Grace joked and Remus chuckled good-naturedly. He’d really grown to like the Grangers even if they could be a bit dull at times. They at least made an effort to be friendly. “Oh— Hello again.”

Remus looked down to where Draco had squeezed into the doorframe beside him. His white-blonde locks had been smoothed down against his head and he was decked out in some of the finest hunter green dress robes money could buy. Upon being addressed, the young wizard stood up a little straighter, his shoulders back and his pointy chin tilted up just the slightest. It was easy to see the confident, youthful Sirius in the way he peered up at Grace with those silver eyes and Remus was struck dumb by how lordly Draco looked. It wasn’t arrogance or self-importance that revealed itself through Draco’s stance, but poise and esteem the likes of which only being the future Lord of house Black could produce. 

Perhaps Dumbledore had a point. The Black family could rule the world with a genial smile if they wanted, Remus mused amiably. Or perhaps they already do.

“Hello Mrs. Granger,” Draco said in introduction, holding out a hand.

Grace accepted the hand and smiled wider. “Pleasure Mr. Black. And you can call me Grace.”

“Mum, is it them,” came a voice from down the hall and before Grace could answer a head of bushy brown hair and wide cinnamon eyes came barreling into her mother. “Draco!”

“Hi Gr—“

“Come on, my dad got a computer for Christmas, you have to see it.” Hermione grabbed Draco by the hand and started dragging him through the doorway.

“Hermione,” Grace hissed in a scolding tone. “You haven’t even greeted Mr. Lupin yet.”

The young witch paused her tugging for only a second and turned to Remus with a small look of chagrin, spouting off a quick, “Hi Mr. Lupin. I’ve hear a lot about you. I hope you don’t mind waiting for a second while I show Draco something.”

“Not at—” Remus started and Hermione and Draco were already gone before he could finish with, “all.” Remus chuckled while Grace gaped at her daughters retreating figure.

“Where’s Harry,” Remus heard Hermione ask Draco before they were out of earshot.

“Oh you won’t believe what he and Neville did. Dad was so mad…“

Grace returned her attention to Remus, her expression brimming with apologies. “I’m so sorry. She is not usually so dismissive of authority figures.”

“I fear that is possibly the fault of Harry and Draco. Sirius raised the boys to be slightly apprehensive of adults… and other children,” Remus added pensively. “He basically raised them to be skeptical little hellions,” he concluded, chuckling a bit. Grace laughed along with him. “So how was your holiday?”

“It was wonderful. It’s so good to have Hermione home for a bit. It’s odd not catching her reading in the corner of the room,” Grace admitted. “What about you? Did you have a good Christmas?”

Remus smiled politely as he replayed the previous day’s events in his mind.

***Yesterday***

“So you’re really an auror?”

Tonks nodded her head in answer to Neville’s inquiry. It was decided earlier that week that Draco, Harry, and Neville should know about the existence of Natasha Bolt in case of emergencies.

“And you can turn into a fox?”

Again Tonks nodded her head. “Yes I can.” It had been a discussion that morning as the boys opened their gifts in the Longbottom family room if Tonks should get herself registered as an animagus like Sirius had to do ten years earlier after his trial. Frank and Alice were split on the decision but ultimately decided it would be better if kept secret for now. It was just too confusing since Tonks was masquerading as two separate witches at the moment.

“Do you have a cool nickname?”

“See, he thinks my nicknames are cool,” Sirius announced defensively gesturing to Neville with a wave of his hand like the eleven-year-old’s opinion was worth the world.

“I’m not. Being called. Snowtips,” Tonks declared.

Sirius folded his arms and leaned back on the living room sofa sulkily. “I come up with the names. Just accept it.”

“No.”

“I still think—“  
“No Remus,” Tonks interrupted. “I’m not being called Vixen either.”

“But it’s the name of a female fox! And you’re real name is Nymphadora.” Remus raised an eyebrow and let that sink in. “It’s perfect.”

Tonks scowled. “No, I’ll come up with the name. I came up with Natasha Bolt all on my own and I personally think it sounds badass.”

“I think you should be called Flash,” Neville declared, his smile bright and innocent.

Tonks snapped her head to the brown-haired eleven-year-old. “Why Flash?”

“Because of The Flash. You know, the comic book hero. Wally West! He’s red and quick, and your name is Bolt, and it would be so cool. Here I’ll go get the issue Dean got me for Christmas,” Neville spouted off in excitement. He jumped up from his seat and rushed up the stairs to his bedroom. Remus, Sirius, and Tonks watched until he was out of sight and then looked at each other.

“What’s a comic book,” Tonks asked.

Remus smirked and left without answering. By the end of the night, Tonks had read five issues of the famous American comic book series, The Flash, and Flash officially became her animagus nickname. Sirius was still annoyed that he didn’t get the name he chose, but Remus could tell that he secretly liked Neville’s idea since he had already taken to calling Tonks Flash on three separate occasions.

Remus managed to find himself in the study where Frank and Steven were enjoying a glass of scotch and a cigar before Christmas dinner. “Really?”

“Join us, won’t you,” Frank offered around the cigar in his mouth. There were cards splayed out over the desk as the two men played snap— normal snap from the looks of it since those were muggle playing cards.

“I honestly think you blokes may actually just be ten-year-old boys getting to live in adult bodies for a day,” Remus joked.

“It’s tradition,” Severus ground out, his eyes focused solely on the game in front of him. “And if you must know, we were discussing Order matters before you arrived.” A quick hand slapped down on the pile and Frank sighed in annoyance as Sev gathered the cards and folded them under his deck. “Pay attention Longbottom,” the younger wizard teased.

“I take back my offer for you to join us Remus. This is personal,” Frank stated evenly, his hand at the ready to start the next round.

Remus shook his head amiably. “Do you know where the boys are?”

“Last we saw of them they were discussing the build of a very large snowman,” Severus replied, his eyes still never leaving the cards.

“Right. Until dinner then, lads.” Remus gave a mock solute to the two cutthroat players and headed toward the back of the house and out onto the porch. 

Down in the garden he spotted Draco, Charlie, and one of the most piss-poor excuses for a snowman that he had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. It looked as if the two had given up half-way through the build in favor of a nasty snowball fight. And apparently there was no winner. The two young wizards were sprawled out in the snow out of breath and red from being pelted with snowballs. Remus guessed it was a pretty even match.

Suddenly Charlie leaned over, grabbed a handful of snow, and dropped it over Draco’s head. With his superior hearing ability, Remus was able to catch Charlie’s breathy declaration of, “I win.”

Draco spluttered and shook his head so hard, his cap fell off. “My father will hear about this.”

“Oh so you need your dad to fix everything for you?”

“Dad,” Draco whined, overemphasizing his voice’s nasal tone. “Charlie was mean to me.” Draco stopped and grinned. “We’ll see if you’re invited again next year.”

“You little shit,” Charlie joked charging at the blonde boy, scooping him up and throwing him over his shoulder. Draco laughed.

“Dad, Charlie said a bad word,” Draco said in his over-exaggerated spoiled little rich kid voice.

“HEY!” Draco and Charlie froze and looked up toward Remus, the former still hanging upside-down over the latter’s shoulder. “Make sure you dry yourself before you come back in for supper. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Draco replied, holding a hand over his heart mockingly.

Remus headed back inside and found the Grimmauld Place house elf Kreacher, the Black Manor house elf Tilly, and the Longbottom’s house elf Jeely conversing outside the doors to the kitchens. They seemed to be enjoying some hot cocoa together and snickering at the door.

“Oh no, is that Alice’s cocoa? Did she kick you out of the kitchens? On Christmas?”

“Don’t worry Master Lupin,” Tilly said. “Dinner has beens completed, sir.”

“Mistress Alice is simply teaching Master Potter to makes mince pies“ explained Jeely, her tone clearly laced with humor.

“No,” Remus gasped. “Dessert? She’s going to ruin dessert? On Christmas?!”

The three house elves snickered again in unison.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake— Alice Longbottom,” Remus scolded as he pushed open the doors to the kitchens. Two frazzled brunettes, their faces and clothes splotched with baking flour, looked up at the werewolf in surprise. “You’re not even wearing aprons,” Remus admonished. Alice and Harry looked down at their ruined clothes and grimaced. “Please stop this. Every year Alice—” Remus sighed as he navigated the counters and snatched the mixing spoon from Alice’s grasp. “Just give up. You can’t cook or bake. There is nothing wrong with that so please just stop.”

Wide blue eyes stared up at Remus. “But— but…”

“Just stop,” Remus placated. “It’ll be okay. Your mother-in-law knows that you are terrible at this. Augusta understands and no longer cares. Please stop trying to feed her things that might poison her.”

Alice folded her arms and scoffed. “I’m not that bad. And this time I have Harry helping me, right Harry?”

Harry looked between the two adults for several seconds before sighing. “I’m sorry Aunt Alice, but… even I can’t help you. I’ve been trying, but— well I think you’re fairly hopeless.”

Alice squeaked, her mouth agape. She put a hand to her heart. “You wound me Mr. Potter. Wound me, I say.”

“You couldn’t even crack an egg,” Harry shouted at her retreating back. “I’m sorry!” Once Alice exited the kitchens, the three house elves returned, still trying to hide their smiles. Harry turned to Remus. “She’ll be okay right?”

Remus ruffled the young wizard’s unruly hair. “She’ll be fine. Why don’t you help Tilly with these mince pies and then clean yourself up?”

Harry nodded and grabbed an apron from one of the cupboards. “Kreacher can you zap this mess away please,” Harry asked. Kreacher nodded and with a snap of his fingers the disaster that was Alice trying to bake disappeared leaving a clean work station. “Thank you.”

Two hours later the Longbottom/Black/Potter/Tonks/Lupin/Prince/Weasley clan and the three house elves who made the food sat down to Christmas dinner. Steven won the game of snap increasing his lead, the score now 6 to 4. Draco and Charlie had moved onto which Quidditch team was best. Remus thought it sounded like a riveting conversation and promptly proceeded to tune them out for the rest of the night. Tonks and Neville discussed other Superheroes in the DC universe and Tonks promised to check out Wonder Woman when she had the chance. Augusta and six-month-old Abigail had awoken from their naps and had apparently found a way to calm Alice down. Now the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law were talking to the elves about the food on their plates, while Harry happily fed Abby.

And across from Remus was a strangely quiet Sirius Black. Silver eyes flashed up to meet the golden brown of Remus’s. Padfoot, Remus mouthed. Alright then, mate?

Sirius smiled and picked up his glass of wine, tilting it in Remus’s direction. “Never better.”

***Present***

Remus mentally shook his head to clear away the memories and answered Grace with a nod. He smacked his lips together before asking, “Do you ever just wish time could stop? Or maybe that everyone could just stay this age forever?”

Grace tilted her head in understanding. “Of course. But no one wants a Peter Pan on their hands.”

Remus was slightly taken aback by this change of topic. “Peter Pan? The famous potioneer?”

Grace blinked. “Uhh… No. I was speaking of the boy from Neverland who never grows up. From the story?”

“Oh.” Remus squinted his eyes in contemplation. “Huh. Muggles really do make the strangest stories out of real-life wizards.”

“Peter Pan is a wizard?” Large honey-colored eyes stared up at Remus like he had grown a second head in the last minute.

“Was a wizard, yes. He was one of most well known potioneers in the nineteenth century. He revolutionized the de-aging potion and left his entire fortune to the Ollerton brothers when he died. We wouldn’t be flying without him because he single-handedly funded one of the greatest broomstick companies in Britain.”

Grace was silent for a very long time. “Right… you fly on broomsticks…”

Remus’s eyebrows shot up. “Have we not mentioned that?”

“No I don’t believe you have.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly Grace burst into laughter and Remus was quick to join her. “Well what else have our fairytales gotten wrong then? Give us another.”

Remus took a moment to ponder and in that time, Draco and Hermione had returned, Joss behind them and Hermione now carrying a heavy bag over her shoulder. Remus snapped his finger as someone came to mind. “Rapunzel.”

“What about Rapunzel,” Hermione asked, instantly interested.

Grace turned to her daughter. “She was a witch.”

“Rapunzel was real,” Joss asked.

“Oh yeah,” Remus assured them. “In fact Sirius was pretty obsessed with her. He did his muggle studies report on her seventh year. He even interviewed Harry’s grandfather who apparently got the inspiration for his sleakeazy hair potion enterprise from a serum Rapunzel used during the 1700s.”

There was another long pause as the three Grangers just stared at Remus. In that moment, they couldn’t have looked more like a family if they tried.

“Wow,” Joss breathed. “That’s fascinating.”

And this was why Remus liked the Grangers. They weren’t the best conversationalists, but they were positively fascinated by wizarding culture and Remus was able to spout off facts without worry that he was boring his listeners. And apparently he had only scratched the surface this past month in regards to the magical world. They hadn’t even made it to broomstick flying yet.

Remus grinned at the older Grangers and then turned to the two Hogwarts students. Draco looked as if he was desperately trying to hold back a snicker. Remus decided it was best to ignore him. “So Hermione, are you ready?”

Hermione physically shook herself out of the information overload she just received and patted her bag. “Yes I am.”

“Terrific,” Remus declared, clapping his hands in excitement.

“Are you going to apparate them,” Joss asked.

“Or did you bring broomsticks,” Grace inquired, her voice suddenly panicked.

“We’re going to apparate,” Remus quickly assured them. Not that apparating is less scary than flying, but perhaps all the Grangers have a fear of heights like their daughter does, Remus mused.

Joss looked over at his wife in confusion, but Grace waved her hand as if to say she’d explain later. “Is it safe? Apparition, I mean,” Joss asked, returning his attention to Remus.

“Yes, very. We have to have an apparition license and I have been licensed since I was seventeen.”

“And I’ve been apparating side-along with Remus since I was five,” Draco added. “And, trust me, he’s the best. Much better than Dad. I’d rather floo than apparate with my Dad actually.”

“And floo is when you step into a fireplace,” Joss confirmed. Remus nodded. “Yeah, let’s stick with apparition.”

“Alright, well I set up anti-apparition wards around your house last week and I must say, I did an excellent job. So we’re going to have to head back down to the park there.” Remus pointed to the spot where Draco and him appeared ten minutes earlier.

Joss and Grace nodded and the five of them walked over to the Bristol city park. Hermione hugged her parents goodbye and Remus assured them that he would return her that night at 11:00. Remus clasped one hand on Draco’s shoulder and grabbed Hermione’s hand with the other. He gave her palm a reassuring squeeze and she looked up at him with a bravery that reminded him instantly of Lily Evans. He smiled.

“Hold tight,” he warned before twisting away to Hogsmeade.

***

Hermione had never felt anything quite like it before. It was as if she were being squeezed into a tube only to come out the other side like nothing had changed. When her feet landed softly on lush green grass, she decided that apparition wasn’t an entirely unpleasant experience. In fact, she quite liked it.

She blinked open her eyes and found Draco smiling at her. “Well done Granger. It took Harry until very recently to land on his feet and not double over.”

Hermione could feel herself beaming at the compliment. Praise of any kind always made her grin like a lunatic.

“Well let’s go then,” Mr. Lupin encouraged, gently leading the two students toward a moderate two-story home dressed with delicate precision with fairy lights. From what Hermione had heard about the Black family, the house wasn’t quite what she expected. It seemed tame in comparison to her wild imagination.

The three of them stepped up onto the porch and entered the home which was empty save for Harry, Neville, and who could only be Neville’s dad standing in front of a large banquet table that held more gifts than Hermione could ever estimate. Harry and Neville hopped up from their seats with twin looks of utter relief. “Thank Merlin,” Harry breathed. “Uncle Remus, can we go now?”

“Please Dad,” Neville asked glancing up at his father.

Mr. Longbottom looked down at the pocket watch clutched in his hand before returning his gaze to Neville’s. “I suppose.”

Harry’s face lit up like a firework and he sprinted toward Hermione, engulfing her in a hug. Hermione chuckled into her friends chest. “Harry would you let me set down your presents at least? This bag is getting heavy.”

Harry pulled back and laughed. “Right sorry.”

Hermione made her way to the table and added her three gifts to the pile, one for Harry, one for Draco, and one for Sirius. All her other friends (and she still couldn’t believe she had friends, let alone other friends) exchanged gifts with her before they left Hogwarts for their Holiday break. Despite the numerous presents on the table, Hermione was glad to see that her three stuck out like a sore thumb, because while most people had wrapped their gifts in traditional Gryffindor red and gold, Hermione’s were a bright purple tied with gold and silver ribbon.

Hermione folded up her bag until it was nothing more than and a tiny square and now unsure what to do with it, she clutched in her hand and greeted Neville with a hug.

“So, where is everyone,” Hermione asked.

“Til,” Draco called suddenly and Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when a small creature with a long nose, large circular eyes, and pointy ears dressed in a nice black robe with a crest stitched into the chest pocket appeared right before her very eyes.

“Yes, Draco?”

“Would you mind taking Granger’s bag, Tilly? You can place it with her presents.”  
Hermione was too busy gaping at Tilly to really comprehend Draco’s request. When the small creature was standing right in front of her holding out a hand, she finally blinked. “Miss,” Tilly said politely, her smile gracious and her large eyes full of trust. “I can takes that for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Hermione stumbled out, gently handing over her folded shoulder bag. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It is no problems.” And before she could utter another word, the creature vanished.

“I’ll go check on the food,” Mr. Lupin announced and she saw Draco roll his eyes. She could’ve sworn Draco muttered, “Man’s obsessed with food,” under his breath.

“I’m going to relieve your grandmother from from her Abigail-watching duties,” Neville’s dad said pointedly to his son. “Be good,” he warned, “or I’ll tell your mother what you did when she returns from work.”

“Promise.” Neville grinned toothily up at his father until he disappeared up a set of stairs leaving the four children alone. His smile dropped immediately and he breathed out a sigh of relief. “That punishment could have been so much worse.”

“It’s your own fault,” Draco quipped.

“It was Harry’s idea,” Nev squawked. “And the elves weren’t even upset. Kreacher even laughed. A lot.”

Harry grinned. “And you’re just mad you weren’t there to witness it,” he said, tilting his head in Draco’s direction.

“Well someone didn’t wake me up,” Draco grumbled.

“There was no waking you up,” Neville insisted. “We tried but you didn’t even stir. We thought you might be dead.”  
“Wow. Well now I forgive you,” Draco lied. “I mean, of course you leave my dead body to play a practical joke on Remus. That makes complete sense.”

Harry grinned wider. “Where are the pies? The pies! Oh my Gods the pies are gone,” Harry mocked. “Hilarious.”

Hermione watched the back and forth banter with an amused smile. From what she heard, this prank hadn’t been very well thought out or executed to it’s fullest potential, but she kept her opinions to herself and the let the boys have their fun. If they thought disappearing a few dozen pies was a good idea when doing magic outside of school was against the rules, then they could learn from their mistakes all by themselves. Hermione found the whole escapade silly and pointless, but she wouldn’t tell them that.

She hadn’t even realized she was being lead down a hallway until the three boys stopped in front of a large ornate set of double doors that Hermione thought couldn’t possibly fit inside the moderately sized home. “Wait… what,” she marveled under her breath.

“Hey did you know Terry was coming,” Neville asked Draco.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “No. Wow, he never comes.”

“I know,” Nev said before pushing open the doors.

It was like Hermione had been lost in a cold forest for days without food or water and stumbled onto a cabin during her journey where a fire roared and an elderly couple made warm stew and hot apple cider for her. It was the only thing she could compare this feeling to as she walked into the vast ballroom. Music floated over from a string quartet to the left and Hermione assumed their instruments were enhanced by magic for the music was just the right volume to circle you as you danced while not hindering any conversations. To the right was an ice skating rink that was really more like a frozen lake than what the muggles used for indoor ice skating. Two ice sculptures were charmed to skate across the ice in an intricate dance to the music. Above, snow fell from an enchanted ceiling much like the one in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. There was a long banquet table in the back lined with every kind of food and beverage one could imagine and a couple dozen circular tables where men and women enjoyed pleasant conversation as they ate. On each table was a miniature version of the larger ice rink with tiny ice sculptures twirling and spinning across the frozen pond.

There had to be at least 400 witches and wizards in attendance and they were all dressed in fine fabrics in rich colors. Even in Hermione’s wildest fantasies, she never assumed this was what life at the Black house would be like.

“Ha. It’s bigger on the inside,” she joked, her voice still laced with awe. Three sets of eyebrows raised in confusion and she giggled, because of course the three wizards wouldn’t understand the Doctor Who reference. She gasped. “Oh my God, the Doctor’s a wizard…”

Her attention was pulled away from the puzzled expressions of the three boys when she found a familiar blond head of hair in the crowd. The head turned as if she knew she was being watched and suddenly Hermione had her arms full of Daphne Greengrass.

After their heartfelt hellos, Daphne dragged Hermione away from the crowd of prestigious Wizengamot members and old friends of Sirius and Remus from their school years at Hogwarts and toward the ice rink. It had been almost a year since Hermione slipped on a pair of skates and twirled across the ice, but she glided across the frozen lake like she had been doing it her whole life. She had to wonder if magic was involved or if she had discovered a natural talent she didn’t know she possessed.

She and Daphne talked about their individual Christmases, the gifts they received, and the family traditions they continued, while they skated laps around the pond, watching as the sculptures spun and danced between them. Daphne told her of last year’s Boxing Day theme that Hermione wished she could have witnessed for herself. Apparently, the ballroom had been decorated like a gingerbread house and everything was edible down to the floor they walked on. It seemed wholly unnecessary and unsanitary, but Hermione wished she’d been able to see it anyway.

After a while, Hermione grew hungry and she and Daph made their way to the buffet where Draco, Harry, Neville, and Susan (who’d arrived a little earlier with her Aunt) were debating which flavor of jelly was best. When both Hermione and Daphne ended the debate by siding with Draco and Susan that strawberry was better than cherry, the six first years decided to find a seat where they could eat their spoils. Sitting alone at a table near the frozen lake sat Terry Boot, his eyes watching the crowd with a smirk on his lips. 

“Hey Terry,” Susan greeted kindly, setting her food down next to the Ravenclaw’s empty plate. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The rest of the children took their seats as well, greeting Terry with quick hellos.

“Hi,” Terry greeted in that awkward way of his that Hermione was starting understand was just Terry’s personality… or lack of personality. It wasn’t that Terry was rude; he was just a bit… anti-social. Hermione actually found his demeanor quite relaxing and was quick to choose him as a partner in Charms whenever the chance arrived.

“So why’d you come this time? Aren’t you usually visiting your sister in Nice during Christmas,” Draco asked around a spoonful of chocolate mousse.

“Lacey’s here,” Terry answered. “I guess her fiancé is an auror in London now. Some bloke named Nate—“ His explanation was distracted as he tilted his head to get a better view of something going on behind Hermione’s head.

“What’s going on,” Susan asked excitedly.

“My brother is an idiot.” Terry’s half-assed explanation had six sets of eyes squinting to find Terry’s brother in the crowd of mingling wizards. It was easy to recognize Head Boy Adam Boot, with his wavy hair and exaggerated height. His arm was wrapped around another familiar student at Hogwarts, Penelope Clearwater.

“Wait, isn’t Penny dating Percy Weasley?” Six sets of eyes returned to the table, their surprise honing in on Daphne. “What,” she asked defensively. “I know things.”

Terry nodded his head in answer. “Yup. She’s under the impression that Adam invited her here as a friend. He’s been hanging all over her for the past couple of hours and I’m just waiting for her to break and throw her drink in his face or something.”

“She’s far too polite to make such a scene,” came the dreamy voice of a very small blonde girl behind Terry. The girl bobbed as she walked as if her heavy velvet polkadot dress was the only thing keeping her from floating away and Hermione could swear that the fragile-looking blonde would shatter with a single touch. She smiled distractedly at the seven first years. “I suggested she have the nargles steal his bowtie. He sure does seem to favor it’s silk.” Then the girl floated away and they lost her in the sea of people.

Draco was the first to blink and he flailed his arms in the air like he was shaking himself out of a coma. “What in Merlin’s name was that? Who was that girl? I didn’t imagine her, right?”

“No, she was real,” Susan assured him, patting his arm like she wanted him to know that he was still awake.

“You know my Mum’s insane boss,” Daphne said. “The one who owns the Quibbler? Well I think that’s his daughter.”

Hermione and Harry looked back behind them to see if they could find her again, but there was no sign of the strange blond girl in the polkadot dress. Hermione leaned over and whispered to Harry, “What’s a nargle?”

Harry only shrugged in answer, his eyes still scanning the crowd with hope in his eyes. Perhaps he wanted to know the answer himself and this young witch was the only one who could answer his question.

“Anyway,” Susan announced, bringing everyone back to the present, “as most of you know the exploding snap tournament starts at nine and this is perfect. We needed an eighth.” She smiled with a cheshire cat-like quality at Terry who took thirty seconds to realize Susan was referring to him.

“I don’t play snap,” Terry declared monotonously.

Susan pouted. “Please,” she simpered. “Hannah will be here soon and the tournament will be uneven if you don’t join us.”

“What about Tori,” Daphne pointed out and Susan shot her a betrayed look. Daphne held up her hands in retreat. “I’m just saying.”

Susan deflated. “Tori’s awful at the game. It’s not even a challenge,” she sulked.  
“Please, please, please,” she begged, her hands clasped in front of her with extreme exaggeration, as if Terry’s agreement to join the tournament was a life or death situation. Hermione laughed at the absurdity. She hadn’t really gotten to know Susan very much at Hogwarts, not like the others in their little friend group. But now that she was getting to know the real Susan Bones, she couldn’t help but wish she got to spend a little more time with her over the past four months. She was loud and boisterous and quite a lot of fun.

Terry was chewing his nail and looked as if he hadn’t even noticed Susan’s pleas. Hermione would have given up by now, but apparently Susan knew Terry Boot better than she did, because the redheaded girl simply waited patiently, a toothy smile painted on her face. Terry sighed. “Fine.”

Susan pumped her fist and leaned over to hug Terry. “Yay! Okay, I have to go set up the library—“

“Wotcher little cousins and their ever-expanding group of friends.”

The seven first years looked up from the table to find a young woman dressed in a simple but elegant black dress, holding a glass of wine, and sporting a very dramatic purple haircut.

“Hey Tonks,” Harry greeted. “Oh, this is Hermione and Terry.”

“Nice to meet you,” the witch greeted kindly, tilting her wine glass in first Hermione’s direction and then Terry’s. She glanced down at the dainty silver watch on her wrist and then back up to Harry. “It’s about time, no?”

“Oh,” Harry said, jumping up from his seat, green eyes wide. “Yeah, we have to go warm up.”

Draco and Daphne shared a look and snorted in unison, but stood up to join Harry. “Fine, we’ll warm up,” Draco sighed, dragging his brother away.

“You’re such a worrier Harry,” Daphne added, running to catch up.

“Warm up for what,” Hermione inquired to the remaining group.

“You’ll see,” was Tonks’s interjection before the others could respond.

“You made it,” came a voice behind Tonks and suddenly the lavender-haired young woman was swept into the arms of a vaguely familiar-looking redhead. The wine glass in Tonks’s hand stayed upright during the spin and once again Hermione had to wonder if there was magic involved with the lack of spill or if Tonks was simply gifted with the ability to keep liquid inside a glass. Tonks was a lady of House Black or whatever… she could have perfected that level of grace and agility.

“I made it,” Tonks agreed once her feet were firmly placed back on the ground. “Remind me to take the day off next year,” she mumbled under her breath.

The redhead grinned and leaned in to plant a short kiss on Tonks’s cheek. “Well I’m glad.”

Suddenly Tonks’s expression became one of concern. “Are you not enjoying your first Boxing Day party, Charlie?

Charlie sighed. “It’s exhausting. I think Sirius has introduced me to about three hundred people and there’s is no bloody way I’ll remember any of their names come tomorrow.”

Tonks patted her friend’s cheek playfully. “Sirius just wants to show you off. Don’t worry about it. You look good by the way.”

Charlie glanced down at himself as if he were surprised to find himself in a tuxedo. “You think?”

“Well lets get their opinions,” Tonks said returning her attention to the four remaining first years at the table. Neville was forking another mouthful of jelly into his mouth and somehow during the very short conversation between Tonks and Charlie, Susan had acquired a piece of parchment and a quill. Hermione watched, fascinated, as the Hufflepuff girl mapped out a very elaborate bracket system for the tournament where it looked as if each person would be playing three times. Terry had returned his attention to the crowd to see if Penelope would ever rebuke his brother’s advances. Upon seeing this, Tonks ignored the others and focused singularly on Hermione. “Well, what do you think Hermione? Can Charlie here pull off a penguin suit?”

Hermione giggled, and then nodded her her head in answer.

“Yeah well—“ Charlie yanked at his basic black bowtie as if it were choking him. “Next year, let’s have the theme be Ugly Christmas Sweaters. I have about a thousand of those.”

“Me too,” Hermione admitted.

Charlie paused in his attempt to break free of the tie and grinned down at Hermione. “Oh yeah? Did you’re mum make them?”

Hermione had to laugh at that. “No she can’t even knit a scarf. My great aunt buys me one every Christmas.”

Charlie took a seat at the round table and resumed his attempts to loosen his tie. “It think it’s too tight, is my problem. Tonks,” Charlie pleaded. Tonks rolled her eyes, but sat down on Charlie’s other side to help with his bowtie. “So you’re Hermione, right,” Charlie asked over his shoulder.

“Yeah…”

“The boys talk about you all the time,” Charlie admitted. Tonks must have noticed the blush on Hermione’s cheeks as she knotted the tiny piece of fabric around Charlie’s neck, for she narrowed her eyes at her friend. Charlie didn’t seem to notice the glare as he continued. “Yeah, they might have mentioned that my brother is being a bit of a git.”

Hermione blinked. “Oh. Ron?”

“I suppose I should’ve narrowed it down, huh,” Charlie mused as Tonks tightened the last knot with a pleased smile. “All my brothers are gits.”

Now Hermione remembered where she’d seen Charlie before, back at King’s Cross in September. She’d heard Harry and Draco mention the man a couple times over the last few months as well. He was dating their father Sirius. Hermione took a beat to gather her thoughts, but ultimately decided that this was a rare opportunity. “Actually, I’ve already settled on the fact that Ronald is just a bit impetuous— no offense— and he didn’t really mean anything by his comments on Halloween. I kind of just want us all to go back to being friends, but Harry and Draco can’t let it go… Especially Harry. I had no idea he could hold a grudge like that.”

“Do you want me to talk to them,” Charlie asked, spinning around in his seat to face the curly-haired girl.

Hermione’s face lit up. “Could you? That’d be lovely.”

“Certainly,” Charlie promised. “I didn’t know about Harry’s grudge-holding abilities, but I know how pigheaded Ron can be so if it’s anything like that…”

“Merlin, boys are stupid.” Charlie glanced at Tonks over his shoulder with a raised brow. “Well they are,” Tonks affirmed, taking another sip of her wine around a smile.

Charlie sighed in defeat, too exhausted to argue.

Suddenly the music cut out a voice sounded from the stage, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you are enjoying this years ninth annual Black family Boxing Day celebration and fourth annual FENWE charity ball.”

The voice cut to allow for applause and then everyone’s attention was on the stage where Draco stood, a wand held to his jugular by one of the quartet members from earlier, permitting his voice to reach every ear in the room with the use of a sonorous charm.

“Thank you, thank you,” Draco said as he let the clapping die out. “Now as most of you know, I’m Draco Black and behind me is Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass.” Harry and Daphne both waved and gave a short bow when they were acknowledged. “What you might not know is that our parents have forced us to attend music lessons with Miss Reese for the last five years. And every Christmas Eve we perform a concert as our Christmas gift to them, because really, what else do you get the parents who have everything?”

There was a general tittering of agreement as many found Sirius Black and the Greengrasses in the gathering, the three of them sporting very curious but sheepish expressions. Next to Hermione, Charlie snorted in agreement.

“Exactly. Well, this year the three of us started our first year at Hogwarts—“ more applause sounded and Draco waited patiently for it to end— “and we didn’t really have time to learn a whole new set of songs. Which meant on Christmas Eve, there wasn’t a concert. I’m certain my father didn’t really blame us. We were busy with schoolwork and such, too busy to continue lessons. But Harry, Daph, and I discussed it, and we simply couldn’t figure out what else to get our parents. So we wrote to Miss Reese back in November and she agreed to write us a sonata in three parts. We’ve been practicing ever since. The thing is, this song isn’t made to just listen to. So if you don’t mind, we would like to perform it now and hopefully you all will grace us with a waltz?”

There was a cheer from the center of the crowd and soon all the hesitant expressions had disappeared and people generally looked excited at the prospect of a waltz.

“Great,” Draco said, elated. “This song is called Pour Ceux Qui Ont Tout, which roughly translates to “For Those with Everything.”

Draco backed way from the wand and thanked the musician holding it before settling behind a piano. Daphne brought the end of a violin to her chin and readied her bow while Harry settled behind a cello.

There was a silent countdown and then the clear sounds of a violin as Daphne ran her bow along the strings resounded around the giant ballroom. To say that Hermione was surprised at her friends’ raw talent would be an understatement. She was so mesmerized by the melody, she hadn’t even realized Sirius had swooped by to pull Charlie to his feet or that Tonks took off to find Remus, telling the first years to join in the fray if they knew what was good for them. Just as Draco began to accompany Daph on the piano, Neville appeared in front of Hermione and held out a hand, snapping the curly-haired Gryffindor out of her trance.

She smiled up at her fellow housemate and placed her hand in his, letting herself be lifted from her seat and lead out onto the dance floor, which at the time, was technically anywhere in the room. She was spun into Neville’s arms and not for the first time that day, she was overcome with shock.

“Alright, considering how uncoordinated you usually are, you really shouldn’t be this good at dancing,” Hermione joked as she and Neville swayed to Draco and Daphne’s duet.

Neville chuckled as they waltzed across the room, Hermione’s red dress billowing around her waist whenever Nev twirled her. She mentally thanked her mother for forcing that shopping trip last week. It had never been a goal of Hermione’s to feel like a princess, but if it had, she would have marked tonight as an accomplishment. “I’ve had years of practice,” Neville admitted. “I’ve been attending events like these since I was a baby.”

“Oh speaking of, I didn’t realize this was a charity ball. What’s Fen… we?”

“FENWE. F-E-N-W-E. It stands for Free Elves of North-Western Europe,” Neville explained.

“Free elves?”

Neville faltered mid-step with a startled expression on his face. “Right,” he croaked. He pulled Hermione back in but stopped leading her around the room, keeping their dance to a simple sway. “I suppose you wouldn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Umm… Daph would be able to explain this a whole lot better, but I’ll try. See about— wow! Seven years ago, uncle Sirius brought his first major— uh… bill, I guess— to the Wizengamot. See, uh, well House Elves used to have to do what their masters told them to do—“

“Pardon,” Hermione interrupted, suddenly feeling the need to throw up. “Masters?”

“… Yeah… Wizards can kind of… own house elves…”

“Like slaves?” This conversation had gone in quite a different direction than Hermione had anticipated, but despite it all, the two Gryffindors continued to dance. Draco had been right. The Sonata wasn’t something you could just listen to. Or ignore.

It took Neville a long time to answer but eventually he muttered, “Yeah.” He let Hermione have a moment to let that sink in before continuing his explanation. “Well anyway, Uncle Sirius wanted to get rid of this magic that forces the elves to do their owner’s bidding. I guess, from what my parents told me anyway, Sirius’s parents— Draco grandparents— kind of abused this power and their house elf Kreacher, who is like the best by the way, was forced to do some pretty awful things to… well, Sirius and his brother.”

“Oh my god…”

“Yeah, so… yeah. He— uh, he took this bill to the Wizengamot hoping that he could convince the members to find a way to release this compulsion from the house elves. It took two years, but he got it to pass, which meant any binding between the elf and their owners that made it so the elves had to do what their master says was outlawed and a new devision in the ministry was formed to enforce this ruling and perform the magic to undo the binding if need be.”

“Two years?”

“Yeah that’s what I said too, but most of the Wizengamot members are very traditional. At least that’s the word they use to excuse their stupidity. It took Sirius and his supporters, like my Grandmother and Mr. Greengrass and Tonks’s mum to get the numbers. I don’t know the story that well, because I was like, five when it happened, but my Mum and Dad made sure to sit me down one day and explain it all to me.”

“Wow… So what’s FENWE then?”

“Oh well FENWE is the charity Uncle Sirius started for all the elves who were set free after the bill was finalized. Many feared the elves would turn on their owners if they couldn’t force them to do as they were told. So they set their elves free.”

“Well isn’t that a good thing? Shouldn’t they be free?”

“Yes, but for a house elf, being set free is one of the greatest offenses a wizard could do to an elf. They were left with nothing. No where to live. No where to work. There reputations amongst wizards and other house elves were ruined. And that’s when Sirius took it upon himself to do something about it. He gathered all the elves that were forced out of their homes and offered them Potter Manor. Many live there now and people hire them to plan large events… like this one.”

“Wait— so Sirius hired them to plan their own charity ball,” Hermione asked, this incredible story taking a slightly humorous turn of events.

“Actually no. The elves do this for free. It’s their Christmas present… to Sirius and all those who supported the bill.”

Hermione’s gaze immediately sought out Sirius in the crowd. She found him easily because he glowed with this strange… well, magic. His arms were wrapped around Charlie and he was grinning from ear to ear. 

Harry and Draco were reaching the crescendo of their duet and it filled the whole room with anticipation. Hermione returned her attention to Neville who glanced back at her with curiosity. “I don’t know what to say,” Hermione admitted. She wanted to cry and scream and cheer all at the same time. The feeling was overwhelming.

"Me either. Let's just dance."

"Do you think they'll make this a new tradition?"

Neville glanced up at the stage where they were no longer performing duets. All three of their friends were reaching the conclusion of the song and Hermione suddenly didn't want it to end. "I hope so."

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- There will be a second chapter for the big Boxing Day celebration that will probably be much shorter than this one. So look forward to that next week.
> 
> Please feel free to yell at me for being away for so long.


	20. 1:20- Thank you, Draco

Draco struck the piano key, letting one final note ring out before the thunderous applause. Draco was the first to stand and Harry and Daphne were quick to join him, sandwiching the blond boy between them and taking their bow. The piece had gone quite well considering the little amount of practice time they had, but Draco was proud of the three of them. He spotted a beaming Sirius easily amongst the guests and when they caught each other’s eyes, the older wizard winked and tipped an invisible hat in gratitude. Draco lit up at the simple praise.

One of the musicians returned to the stage and held his wand to Draco’s throat again at Harry’s behest. Draco mentally rolled his eyes at the fact that he had once again become the unofficial spokesperson for their little group, but he stood up straighter and address the guests.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said. “We very much appreciate the encouragement.” There was a tittering of polite laughter. The musician leaned down and whispered in Draco’s ear. Draco smiled. “Well, then,” he said as the man returned to an upright position. “I have just been told that I get to introduce the final act of the night. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the stage, Raising Pixies!”

Applause and cheers erupted from the crowd and when Draco turned around, the cello and violin had been packed away and the grand piano had been replaced with a set of drums. Suddenly fireworks burst into the air above them, mixing with the magical snow flakes in an interesting way and from behind the crowd the four band members flew over the party on broomsticks before landing safely on the stage. The three first years were quickly embraced by the musicians and the energy in the room seemed to quadruple in intensity. Draco physically couldn’t stop smiling. 

Autumn Brownlow, the band’s guitarist, pulled out a wand and her alto voice boomed over the exuberant cheering. “Happy Boxing Day everyone! We are Raising Pixies!” Again, clapping thundered throughout the giant ballroom. “We are so excited to be playing for you folks tonight. The Raising Pixies are a diverse group who strive for equality and we would like to thank the Black Family foundation, the elves of FENWE, and all their supporters for allowing us to be a part of this celebration!” 

More applause ensued as the three first years exited the stage and joined the audience. Autumn, who was possibly the most well-known half-vampire in Britain, summoned her guitar and swung the strap over one shoulder. Her devoted human partner of five years Lola Gray, summoned her bass and mirrored Autumn. Their singer, Lola’s brother Jayson who Draco’d heard incessantly about from his cousin Tonks over the last decade because he was apparently a metamorphmagus like herself, took up residence behind the mic between them. And then all eyes were on the part-veela drummer, a stunning blonde named Liberty Winston, who raised her drumsticks in the air, held about ten centimeters apart as she waited for the noisy crowd to lower their volume to a murmuring din. Suddenly her sticks clicked together, one, two, three times… and the band began their first song, a popular piece from their second record that everyone at the party knew the words to from years of it being on the radio.

“Wait so now it just turns into a pop concert?” Draco whipped around to find a smiling Granger.

“Basically,” Draco answered with a shrug.

“So how’d we do?” Daphne appeared next to Draco and smiled widely at her friend.

Granger rolled her eyes. “You were great, obviously. I had no idea you could all play musical instruments. When did you even have time to practice what with school and friends and studying and lounging around the dorms and watching quidditch and sneaking into the kitchens—“

Draco’s chuckle cut her off. “Merlin, Granger, is that all you think we do?”

Granger snorted and gave him a derisive look. “Basically.”

Draco smiled and opened his mouth to continue the banter but faltered when Harry appeared at his other side and asked about Susan’s whereabouts.

“Hannah got here a few minutes ago, so she and Neville escorted her to the buffet. I was talking to Terry when we saw Penelope drag Adam out of the room. She looked annoyed. Terry snuck off to see if he could find out what happened. He has a strange fascination with his sibling’s secrets. Anyway, I wanted to stay and wait for you all so I could tell you how amazing you were.”

“There’s the compliment I was looking for,” Daphne enthused, pumping her first dramatically.

“Thanks Hermione.” Harry beamed.

“Yeah, thanks Granger,” Draco echoed, far less cocky than he would have assumed. Hermione smiled.

The four of them made their way to the food tables to say hello to Hannah before eventually splitting up again as Susan left to set up the library for the snap tournament with Harry trailing after her, Neville and Hannah shyly making smalltalk as they slowly shuffled their way over to the ice rink (Draco snorted at their destination), and Daphne was pulled away by her little sister who was chattering incessantly about how the guitar was better than the violin, before finding sanctuary in her parents’ embrace. Draco mouthed along the lyrics to the Raising Pixie’s song, another poppy, stuck-in-your-head number, and Hermione laughed.

“Are they popular then, the Raising Pixies?”

Draco grinned as he grabbed a plate and scooped a piece of pumpkin pie onto it. “You have no idea,” he sighed. “They’re practically everybody’s favorite band.”

“Even yours?”

Draco considered that for a moment, but ultimately decided, “Yeah, I suppose so. But I know the songs because my Dad and Tonks are big fans and I grew up listening to them on the radio.” Hermione hummed in understanding and Draco watched as she scoured the pie choices splayed out before her. “I recommend the peach,” Draco said, tilting his head in that particular pie’s direction. “Tilly makes the peach and I believe it was one of the few that Potter and Longbottom didn’t wave their bloody wands at this morning.”

“Peach it is.”

The two sat down at a nearby table and tucked into their pies. “So do you play an instrument?”

Hermione blushed. “I can play a little piano.”

Draco raised a brow in amusement. “Oh yeah?”

“Mum made me take lessons at the local art school. She thought I would make friends there,” she admitted. “I don’t really know what she was thinking though. We all took individual lessons. Who was I supposed to become mates with? The teacher?”

“Do you like piano?”

Hermione scooped another forkful of pie into her mouth, her brow pinched as she considered his question. She shrugged. “Yeah I suppose I do. What about you?”

Draco smiled. “Miss Reese tried us out on many different instruments. But I only ever cared about the piano.”

“Well it suits you.”

“Thanks.”

His Uncle Remus suddenly flopped down beside Draco, his plate clattering noisily on the wooden table. “Hey kiddo. Great performance,” Remus complimented before shoving a forkful of cherry pie into his mouth.

“How many pieces have you had already,” Draco joked.

Remus froze, another bite mere inches from his mouth and glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eyes. “Eight. Don’t tell your dad… or Steven. Merlin help me. Steven will have a coronary.”

“Well yeah. That’s your eighth piece of pie,” Draco erupted with faux disgust.

“I believe that’s his ninth actually,” Hermione piped in, her tone in revision mode again. Draco grinned slightly, hidden by the napkin he brought to his face. “See when he said eight, he was answering how many he’s already had. This would be his ninth piece of pie.”

“And it is delicious,” Remus announced, cheersing his fork to the empty air before finally taking a bite.

“You’re gonna be sick and I’m not cleaning it,” said the man who sat down on Remus’s other side. Remus blanched and Sirius grinned. “Hey have you seen Steven,” his dad asked, changing the subject. “He disappeared after Raising Pixies came on.”

Draco shook his head while Hermione asked, “What does he look like?”

Sirius laughed. “Tallish, skinny, sort of floppy brown hair—“ His dad made a sort swooping motion with his hand over his head that Draco couldn’t help but think made perfect sense in regards to his godfather’s hair. “Distinctive chin— one you could pick out of a lineup. Large nose, pointy ears. A sort of annoying, sanctimonious smirk on his lips at all time—“

Remus snorted and nearly choked on his piece of pie. Draco patted his back, trying to hold back his own laughter. “Merlin, Padfoot,” his uncle wheezed. “I’m going to tell Steven that you describe him with such reverence.”

Sirius tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in challenge. “Then I’ll tell him you ate ten pieces of pie tonight.”

“This is my ninth,” Remus defended.

“So you’re not going to have another one?”

There was a beat of silence before Remus deflated. “You got me.”

Suddenly Draco looked around. “Where’s Charlie? Please tell me you didn’t leave him to fend off these people on his own.”

“I would never,” Sirius gasped, clutching his chest as if his son’s words had physically wounded him. “But I did leave him in Tonks’s Jayson-obsessed hands… which it turns out, aren’t so awful to Charlie. He’s apparently just as obsessed, so I decided to make a tactful and hasty retreat.”

“Who’s Jayson?”

“The singer,” Draco answered Hermione.

Hermione looked toward the stage as if assessing Jayson’s merits to be anyone’s obsession and then returned her attention to the group with an unimpressed look on her face. “He’s no Bowie.”

“Who?”

Hermione only smiled, scooping another forkful of peach pie into her mouth. This hadn’t been the first reference from Granger that Draco didn’t understand that night and it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

He wondered if the lack of shared common knowledge between wizards and muggles was pointlessly vast.

***

“Here.”

Harry held out the wrapped present to Susan who accepted it hastily. He’d both dreaded and anticipated this exchange all day. And he debated heavily whether he wanted to actually be present when Susan opened his gift to her. But then Susan had strutted off on her own to set up for the tournament, and Harry decided this was his best chance. He jogged after her and called on Tilly to fetch Susan’s Christmas gift. Now she was unwrapping the gift with a briskness that echoed Susan’s personality and Harry shifted nervously, fearing the worst.

What if she doesn’t like it? What if it’s too much? She’s probably only gotten me a jumper. Oh no.

Thoughts like these rushed through his mind with a flurry, but it was too late now to change anything. Harry waited with bated breath as Susan stared down at the leather-bound book before her.

He watched as she flipped it open and her breath caught in her throat at the first page.

Although it had probably been only a few seconds, Harry could no longer handle the silence and the rambling began. “I know it’s too much really, and maybe I shouldn’t have made you open it in front of me, but you’ve just been the greatest friend this year and I know your aunt probably has loads of photos of them, but maybe not like this, not like the one’s I have of my parents because my Godfather was my dad’s dorm mate and everything, so I just thought you could use some photos of them while they were at school, so I had my Uncle Remus track down their fellow Hufflepuffs and then I made this scrapbook of all the photos he was given, and I really hope you like it.”

Harry took a deep breath before glancing up from the scrapbook and meeting Susan’s eyes.

“Thank you.” 

Those two words were so soft Harry could barely make them out, but the proceeding embrace made her feelings about his gift very clear. He startled out of his shock and returned the hug. “Anytime.”

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, because time never seemed to exist whenever Susan Bones was concerned, but eventually Susan uncurled her arms from around Harry’s neck and took a step back, clutching the gift to her chest with one hand while wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes with the other. She hadn’t let herself cry yet, and Harry guessed she was waiting until she was alone.

Susan sniffled. “Now I feel bad that all I got you was a jumper.”

Harry snorted, because somehow he knew she didn’t mean it. “No you don’t.”

Susan couldn’t stifle the grin. “No I don’t,” she confirmed. “It’s a really nice jumper.” There was a moment of comfortable silence where both of them didn’t dare move a muscle. Finally Susan shifted slightly and turned toward the library. “Well I’m gonna…”

“Right, yeah,” Harry said, waving his hand callously. “Go ahead, I’ll be there at 9:00 for the tournament.”

“Where I’ll kick your arse.”

“Susan Bones,” Harry chastised.

“What? I do every year.”

“Not this year.”

“Oh is that a fact.”

Harry snorted. “No it’s a lie, because obviously I’m talking complete nonsense. We all know I’m terrible.”

“So true.” Susan beamed again and started walking backwards, making her way down the hallway. Eventually she spun around with a simple nod of gratitude in Harry’s direction and he watched her until she disappeared around the corner.

“Tilly,” he called. The house-elf appeared before him and before she could utter a word in greeting, he wrapped her up in his arms. “She liked it.”

“Thats is great,” Tilly squeaked. 

Harry let Tilly go and stepped back. “Thanks for bringing it too me Til.”

“You’re welcome.” And then Tilly popped away again. The fact that she took the time out of her busy schedule of overseeing the FENWE elves to help him made Harry supremely grateful to have her.

Harry twisted around, deciding to head back to the ballroom to find his Uncle Remus when he bumped into a tiny blonde girl. “I’m so sorry,” Harry said, steadying the girl before she fell. “Hey, I know y— where are your shoes?”

Both Harry and the girl looked down at her socked feet with confusion.

“I took them off to dance,” she explained, her wide silver-blue eyes returning to Harry’s face. “I can’t slide with them on, you see.” Harry nodded at the non-question, lowering his hands from her shoulders now that she had regained her balance. Harry opened his mouth to ask her why she was out in the hall but she suddenly said, “I’m Luna.”

Harry blinked at the abrupt introduction, but recovered quickly. “I’m H—“

“Harry.”

Harry blinked again. There was something strange about that interruption that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He remembered Cormac doing something similar at the beginning of the year, but somehow this didn’t feel the same. It certainly didn’t annoy him as much. “Uh— yeah. I guess you know me then?”

“No.”

Harry was getting a little tired of blinking. “No? But you know my name.”

“Of course I do.” Luna looked up at him like he was being silly and then began to make her way past him and down the hall.

“Okaaay…” Harry followed her with his eyes until she was almost out of sight. He could have just let her carry on her merry way and return to the party, but something about Luna had Harry jogging to catch up with her. “Hey wait up. Where are you going?”

“I’m trying to find Penelope. That boy she was with returned to the party without her. I think they must have argued.”

“So you’re friends with Penelope then?”

Luna paused and glanced up at him curiously. “I’d like to thinks so. She was very nice to me when my father interviewed her for his paper.”

“What was the interview about?”

“She was chosen for an internship at the Ministry this past Summer. Her friend wasn’t happy about it though. She told me she did it to spite him.”

Harry chuckled. “Good for her. Percy’s the worst.”

“Well that’s just untrue, isn’t it.”

Again, it wasn’t really a question and Harry took the time to think over his last statement as they continued to search the house for Penelope Clearwater. She was right of course; Percy wasn’t even close to the worst. Harry knew he tended to speak hyperbolically, but he was surprised to learn that he didn’t mind being called out on it. It seemed Luna thought very literally and the way she spoke was unusual to say the least, but in a way that made perfect sense to Harry if he took the time to think about. 

“You didn’t say my last name…”

“What?”

Harry took great delight in Luna’s confused tone. He had a feeling it didn’t happen every day as she seemed to be the one confusing others most of the time, not the other way around. “When I tried to introduce myself, you called me Harry.”

“That’s your name.”“Yes,” Harry confirmed, “but… well you didn’t call me Harry Potter.”

“I’m sorry if I have offended you—“  
“No it’s not that. Just… forget it,” Harry said with a sigh. “Look, maybe Penny just left early. And you shouldn’t be wandering this house alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Luna said.

“Yeah, but I was going to head back to the party so… you should come with me.”

“Do most people call you Harry Potter?”

Harry paused mid-turn and glanced back at Luna. “Well my friends and family don’t. But most others, yeah. People see the scar and just know the name I guess.”

“Oh yes, I see the scar now. How interesting.”

Harry was once again the puzzled one in the duo. “Isn’t that how you recognized me? By my scar?”

“Oh no. It was your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“My father said they have a very distinctive green color. Like that of a mossycup pear.”

There was a beat of silence and then Harry laughed. “Well thanks… I guess.”

“Luna.” The two children looked back in the direction of the party just in time to see a tall blond man in a polkadot tuxedo round the corner carrying a pair of purple oxford shoes. “There you are darling. You shouldn’t go running off like that,” the man, who was clearly the girl’s father, said with relief. “There’s all matters of dangers you could run into especially during the holidays. No doubt the nargles have been busy tonight.”

“What is a nargle,” Harry mused.

“They are nasty creatures, Harry,” the man raved, his hands flailing about as if to accentuate his point. “They infest mistletoe and steal your possessions. Nasty creatures indeed.”

Harry smiled at the man and held out a hand in introduction. “You must be Luna’s father.”

“I am, I am,” the man enthused, shaking Harry’s hand with gusto. “Xenophillius Lovegood. Pleasure to meet you Harry.” Xenophillius stopped shaking Harry’s hand and handed his daughter her shoes. “Well I’m certainly glad you weren’t exploring this house alone darling, and with one of it’s residents no less— lovely house by the way Harry— put these on Luna.”

“Are we leaving?” Luna practically floated to the floor as if she weighed nothing more than a feather, and started lacing up her oxfords.

“Yes, yes. The shadbushes are hatching in thirty-four minutes.”

“Don’t you mean blooming,” Harry asked.

Luna hopped up and said, “Oh no Harry. These are butterfly shadbushes. They only escape their cocoons once a year and father and I are lucky to have one planted in our garden. Mother just had to have one. One day you should witness it. It’s quite spectacular.”

Harry grinned down at the girl. “I’d like that.”

Luna beamed.

Xenophillius took Harry’s hand in his again and shook it exuberantly. “Please send Sirius our gratitude for the invite. We had a wonderful time. And please know that if you need anything for your primary school, the Lovegoods and the Quibbler are here to help. I only wish Luna could have attended before she goes to Hogwarts next year.”

“I will,” Harry assured him, glad when that word of promise finally ended the handshake. “And I look forward to seeing you at school next year Luna.”

“Good luck with the tournament,” replied Luna.

“Uh… right. Wait how did you know about—“ But they were gone, each taking hold of what looked to be a spoon and vanishing away with the portkey. That had to be painful considering the level of wards his Uncle Remus had set up on the place. “—the tournament,” Harry finished lamely to the empty hallway. Harry snorted.

He decided to like the Lovegoods, peculiarities and all.

***

So, Moony was in the loo throwing up. It turned out twelve pies, eight glasses of wine, and two hours of dancing (which for Remus was more like a stiff jumping up and down) didn’t mix well. Not even his werewolf genes could help in this situation.

It was nearing eleven o’clock which was when Remus said he would return Hermione to her parents, and it seemed Sirius was now going to have to do that since Moony was currently out of commission. It was weird to leave his own party, but there was no one else, especially since he hadn’t seen Snape since eight o’clock.

He figured the children were probably still in the library. They tended to stick around there after their snap tournament every year, so he left Remus to his vomiting promising to check back up on him when he returned from the Grangers. Remus waved him off with his head still in the toilet and told him not to bother. He’d be in bed.

“Well then I’ll check your bed, Moony. I don’t want you to sick all over the sheets.”

“Sometimes you’re a really mother hen Padfoot,” Remus slurred.

“Yeah, yeah. You say that like I should be offended or something,” Sirius muttered as he exited the loo.

When he entered the library he wasn’t surprised in the least to find the seven six first years straining to stay awake. Daphne was reading a book while her sister snored peacefully with her head in Daphne’s lap. Draco and Neville were on another sofa sitting opposite each other as they tossed a snitch aimlessly back and forth. They hadn’t even bothered to open the wings. Susan was playing solitaire on the floor between the sofas that looked to be going no where fast. And in the corner leaning causally against a bookshelf, Hermione and Harry were chatting quietly. Terry Boot and Hannah Abbott had left with their families a half an hour ago.

Sirius caught a glance of the tournament bracket on the study table and chuckled when he noticed Susan lost to Terry in the final battle and that Harry had managed to not get last this time. It looked like Hermione and Hannah needed some serious practice if they lost to his Godson.

“Hey kiddos!” Sirius’s voice boomed and most of them cringed at the sudden loud noise. And just as he expected, Astoria remained dead to the world. She had always been a heavy sleeper.

“Hey Dad,” Draco greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Well your Uncle Remus has got his head in the toilet, so I’m here to take Hermione home.”

Draco and Hermione shared a look from across the room and Sirius was sure they were sharing was some kind of inside joke he didn’t understand.

“Ok,” Hermione said, getting up from the floor and helping Harry to his feet so they could hug goodbye. “I’ll see you guys at school,” she continued as she hugged everyone else, careful not to disturb Astoria when she wrapped one arm around Daphne awkwardly. “Have a great New Years.”

Reciprocations were made by the other first years and then he was in the hallway with Hermione making their way to the front door. Sirius called for Tilly who had Hermione’s Christmas gift, shrunken and ready for transport. Sirius stuffed the gift in the pocket of his slacks and hugged Tilly, complimenting her on a job well-done. She’d get a better thanks in the morning, but he was certain this would be the last he saw of the house-elf that night.

Sirius lead Hermione outside and past the wards, Hermione shrugging on her cloak in the cool air. Sirius grabbed the girl’s hand, told her to take a deep breath, and then apparated to the park down the street from the Granger’s house. They landed softly in the frost-covered grass.

Hermione laughed. Sirius glanced at the girl in surprise. “You alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just that wasn’t nearly as bad as Draco made it out to be.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Hermione said, shaking her head and standing up straight, ready to make her way home.

“Okay,” Sirius said, deciding to ignore the comment. He figured it was for the greater good. “Well did you enjoy the party,” he asked as they headed to the closest house.

“It was so much fun. Thank you for allowing me to attend.”

“Are you kidding? You’re invited back whenever you like Miss Granger.” Hermione smiled shyly and hopped up the stoop to her house. She tried the door and then knocked when it was obviously locked. “Oh here,” Sirius announced returning Hermione’s attention to himself. He pulled her gift form his pocket and waved an enlarging charm at it before handing it over. They could hear shuffling from inside.

“Oh, you know, I had a bag. It was nothing special, but I think it’s back at the house,” Hermione said as she took the package from Sirius’s outstretched hands. “Draco asked Tilly to leave it with my gifts.”

Sirius relaxed. “Well then it’s probably inside the gift. You know what, why don’t you open it?”

They could hear footsteps heading toward the door, but Hermione hardly seemed to notice as she excitedly tore at the wrapping paper and lifted the lid to the box. The doors opened to reveal Joss Granger while Hermione pulled out her gift.

“Hey sweetie, did you have fun?”

“Yeah Dad,” Hermione answered over her shoulder. “Wait, Sirius, you got me a bag?”

Sirius laughed and crouched down beside Hermione so their eye-lines were even. “Yeah I did. But this is no ordinary bag, Hermione. This bag has a featherlight charm place it on it, so no matter how many books you place inside, it will always weigh the same as it does right now. And right now, it actually has twelve books inside it, all of them picked out by Harry and Draco.”

“Twelve books fit in here?!”  
“Well it also has an undetectable extension charm that can fit up to thirty books at once. You must take special care of this bag Hermione for it must not end up in the hands of Muggles. But I trust you will keep it safe.”

Sirius only caught a glimpse of Hermione’s bright-as-the-sun smile before she wrapped her arms around Sirius’s neck. “I will, I promise.”

Sirius hugged her back. “Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

“Happy Christmas, Sirius.”

***

Three hours later and the last of the guests departed, but Sirius had escaped long before that. When he returned from the Grangers he checked on Remus who had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor. He summoned Kreacher who was quick to make sure Moony made it to his bedroom alright. When he returned to the party, the Raising Pixies were on their third encore of the night and they seemed more than happy to oblige the crowd (which still consisted of the unstoppable dancing machines that were Tonks and Charlie). The Greengrasses pulled him aside around midnight to say their goodbyes and Amelia Bones wasn’t too long after that. He checked on Draco, Harry, and Neville who had somewhere along the way decided to spend the night in the library. He conjured some blankets and pillows and added a third couch, so Harry, who had sprawled out on the floor between the sofas, could sleep on something a bit more comfortable. It was nearly one in the morning when he decided that whoever was still around could leave without the host. He was exhausted.

He climbed the stairs and headed down the hallway to his room when he happened upon a scene that practically begged to be photographed.

“So this is where you’ve been all night?”

Severus looked up from his book with a guilty look on his face. He was laying on his bed with a slumbering Abigail cradled against side. “Maybe.”

Sirius shook his head fondly and headed into the room, rounding the bed and settling down carefully beside Snape so that Abigail lay between them. He smiled at the sleeping baby and then up at Severus. “I think you might just be the cutest old man I’ve ever met.”

“I am not old,” Snape defended gruffly, his book snapping shut in annoyance.

“But you are adorable,” Sirius countered. Snape grunted, but didn’t refute the claim. Sirius chuckled. “I can’t believe you’ve been here all night. You missed the band entirely.”

“I’ve never been much a fan,” Snape reasoned as he shifted Abi carefully so that he could lay on his side facing Sirius. “And I know Frank and Alice are, so…”

“Yeah that could be the reason… or maybe you just wanted to be with someone who can’t chat your ear off.”

Severus snorted. “Yeah that too.” The two men stared at the baby between them with nothing short of awe. “It could also be that I miss this.”

Sirius glanced up until silver met brown. “Oh yeah?”

Sev shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you miss when they were this age?”

“It sure was easier,” Sirius admitted with a smirk. There was a long bout of silence and Sirius just watched Snape as he glanced down at the baby in his arms. How simple this scene might look on the outside, but Sirius knew there were many intricate details that one could miss if they weren’t paying close attention. Like, “You want one.”

Snape’s head shot up as if he had been struck by lightning. “Wh— what?”

Sirius smiled and returned his attention to the baby girl next to him, running the back of his pointer finger across her cheek. “A girl. You should have a girl.”

“What are you even on about Syr?”

Sirius knew Snape’s question was meant to be nonchalant, but his tone was telling. Sirius had discovered the truth, Snape’s dream that he didn’t dare voice aloud, and there was no taking it back. The cat was out of the proverbial bag. But Sirius could let it go for now. 

He ran his fingers through the soft tufts of dark hair and then glanced back up at Severus. “Where do I live Sev?”

Snape took a deep breath. “Sirius Black lives on 93 Subery Street.”

“That’s right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- DSB has reached 50,000 views and 200 reviews on fanfiction.net! What even is this life? Also, sorry for not posting last week. I know. I’m terrible. I was supposed to finish up this chapter last Sunday, but I was too exhausted to focus after watching the Rooster Teeth Extra Life 24-hour live-stream last Saturday. So blame Jack Pattillo and all the rest of those losers for an enjoyable 24 hours that I didn’t want to miss by closing my eyes. And then you can blame the My Dad Wrote a Porno podcast for not finishing the chapter up throughout the week. From sentence one of this podcast, I was hooked. I literally couldn’t focus on anything else until I was caught up. I highly recommend it. It’s possibly the most hilarious thing I’ve ever listened to. But hey, the good news is I will definitely be posting on time next week, because (spoiler alert) Chapter 21 is already written. Yay! And to all my fellow Americans, have a fantastic Thanksgiving.


	21. 1:21- Happy New Year, Draco

This had possibly been the most wonderful two weeks of Charlie’s entire life, full of wonder and love and magic. And then he’d uttered twelve fateful words, words that finally had him crashing down to Earth after flying high for so long.

“So, Sirius invited us to his castle tonight for New Years Eve.”

He could practically feel the temperature in the Burrow drop about a thousand degrees. It wasn’t as if he had purposely been avoiding the topic of Sirius Black since he returned to the Burrow… Okay, so maybe he had. When he and his family relayed their holiday events to each other last night at dinner, he tried to mention Sirius as little as possible. And that proved to be incredibly difficult since Sirius Black was all Charlie could think about these days. It was almost as if this man had been a part of his life forever. The notion was both exhilarating and frightening.

His mother didn’t like Sirius. It was clear from every flinch at his name, every passive aggressive remark during breakfast, every crease of her forehead and sudden stiffening of her limbs.

And Charlie knew his father was trying. He would chime in occasionally about some of the contributions Sirius had made during his time on the Wizengamot. But when Charlie mentioned anything Arthur Weasley might deem to be too extravagant or lavish Charlie was able to recognize the resentment in the man’s eyes. It was difficult not to notice.

By mid-afternoon, he’d had enough. He loved his parents dearly, but they had slowly been sucking away all the beauty and warmth he had accumulated since he arrived in England two weeks prior. He felt like his ribcage was shrinking, constricting his heart until it ached something awful. He wished it wasn’t this way, that his mum and dad could see how much they were hurting him, or more preferably that they had never hurt him in the first place. But that wasn’t the case. And all he wanted was to be with Sirius again, with Remus and Steven and Draco and Harry and Tonks, with the inner circle, with this new family that he had created for himself.

So he hammered the final nail into the proverbial coffin and said, “So, Sirius invited us to his castle tonight for New Years Eve.”

It wasn’t a lie. Sirius had offered, but Charlie had politely declined, thinking he should spend the whole day with his parents and Ginny, that he should spend time with his family after their return from Egypt. But fuck it. If they were going to act like this, then Charlie was going to visit this castle that had been so ingrained in his love story these past five months.

“That’s nice, dear.” That was what his Mum said right before she returned her attention back to the baking.

It was as good of a dismissal as Charlie had ever heard, not that he expected differently. Nevertheless, her casual brush-off of his boyfriend’s offer was like a slicing hex to the abdomen. Charlie opened his mouth to explain that he was going with or without them, but was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal.

“Really? Oh my Gods, yay! What should I wear?”

Three sets of eyes fell onto the youngest member of the Weasley family, but Charlie’s was the only set that crinkled at the corners from smiling so wide. He practically skipped over to Ginny and knelt down beside the girl who was polishing the amateur secondhand racing broom Charlie had given her for Christmas.

“You can wear whatever you want Gin.”

“Can I wear the quidditch robes Bill gave me?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie declared, his heart soaring despite the daggers his mum was glaring into the back of his head. “Why don’t you go put them on?”

“Okay!” Ginny jumped up from her seat, leaving the broomstick behind as she raced from the kitchen. Charlie could hear her footsteps all the way up to her bedroom and only when he heard her bedroom door shut behind her did he return his attention to his parents. His mother had completely given up on her biscuit batter, and his father’s Tuesday edition of the Daily Prophet lay limply in his hands.

Charlie didn’t wither under their collective stares, but instead patted his hands together like self-congratulatory applause. “Well then, what time should I return Ginny… or I suppose you could still—“ The clatter of his mother’s wooden spoon as it dropped into the metal bowl would have made a younger Charles Weasley flinch. Today, however, he stood up taller and finished with a biting, “—come with us.”

“Come with you?! Come with you?! She’s not even going—“

“Molly,” Arthur interrupted, his father’s voice soft but affective. “What you’re mother means, son,” his dad continued as he focused his attention back on Charlie, “is we do not think it is appropriate to encroach on Mr. Black’s holiday any more than we already have.“

“Sirius invited you,” Charlie reiterated. “And I’m always invited.”

“Charlie, we just don’t think it’s right to take Ginny, dear,” his mum simpered.

“Why not?” When neither of his parents answered, Charlie understood. “You don’t trust him.”

“No that’s not it, son. We just don’t know him.”

“But you could get to know him Dad. Right now.” Charlie’s eyes shifted from his dad to his mum and back again. Neither seemed interested in the idea. Charlie snorted. “Okay let me explain something to you both, because I don’t think either of you really seem to understand. Sirius Black is my boyfriend. And that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

Molly audibly sighed and the sound rankled Charlie something fierce. 

“You don’t believe me?” Charlie knew his words sounded broken, but perhaps that’s because he felt broken. “You’re unbelievable.” Charlie twisted on his heel ready to exit the kitchen and seek refuge in the empty living room when a thought popped into his head. He turned back to his parents. “What is your problem with Sirius? What did he do to make you distrust him so much? Is it the Order of the Dragon?” Molly looked ready to spit nails at the mention of the Order. “Okay then. So it’s the Order. I don’t understand. You didn’t have a problem with Dumbledore’s Order.”

“Sirius Black is not Dumbledore.” 

Charlie glanced up at his mother, in shock at her outburst. “What?”

“Dumbledore is a powerful and noble wizard,” Molly continued vehemently, her first statement seeming to induce metaphorical word vomit. “The Order of the Dragon… this whole charade is ridiculous and I will not have my family be sucked into another war with the pureblood elite. I refuse to follow a man who is nothing more than a playboy philanthropist with too much money and zero respect for authority. He couldn’t be more different than Albus Dumbledore.”

Charlie let the silence reign for ten long seconds. His eyes flashed to his father who looked pained by his wife’s admission, but it was clear from Arthur’s expression that this wasn’t the first time Molly had voiced these beliefs.

Charlie sighed deeply. “You’re wrong.” Charlie couldn’t look his mother in the eye any longer. He stared at the kitchen tiles as he continued. “You’re wrong about him. Sirius is a father and a brother and an uncle to people who aren’t even related to him by blood. He’s a man who learns from his mistakes, who tries to protect everyone. And your bias toward him is completely unfounded, Mum. I’m sorry neither of you will ever get to know Sirius like I do.”

Charlie shook his head before glancing up. His mum’s face showed a severe mix of emotions, but most prominent was defiance. His father looked pensive as if he were truly considering Charlie’s words. Before either of them could break the silence, Ginny sprinted back into the kitchen, her face alight with excitement.

“I’m ready!”

Charlie smiled down at his sister with sad eyes before returning his gaze to his parents. They had to see how fired up their daughter was about this adventure and how hopeful their son was to have his sister meet the man he loved. They had to see it.

He could still try their hand in this matter. Charlie decided to go for it. “What time should I return Ginny,” he repeated. 

His mother and father shared a glance and it seemed that whatever silent argument they had, Arthur won, since he answered, “Ten o’clock, and no later.”

“How are you getting there,” his mum asked.

Charlie pulled out the watch-turned-portkey that Sirius had given him for Christmas. It would automatically transport him to wherever Sirius was at any given time. It was the most wonderful gift Charlie had ever received and he cherished it with every fiber of his being. “Portkey,” he answered simply.

“Okay. Well… have fun,” Molly said.

“Yes, we’ll see you later sweetheart,” his dad added, quickly hugging his daughter and telling her to be good. 

Ginny hugged her mum as well. “You’re not coming?”

Charlie stared at them both for a long time, urging them to say that they’d join them, but they never did. He mentally sighed. “No Gin, it will just be us,” Charlie finally said, his voice full of false cheer. His words did happen to alleviate some of the awkward silence that had settled over the household. “Well come on then. I can’t wait for you to meet Draco and Harry. And I think Neville will be there too.”

“Will Tonks be there,” Ginny asked as Charlie shrunk down her broomstick and put it in his pocket.

Charlie unfolded the cloth that surrounded the watch and held it out between them. “Later tonight,” Charlie answered, remembering that Tonks had the day shift at the Ministry, which she had complained about non-stop all week. “Now on three, we’ll touch the watch together, alright?” 

Ginny nodded. 

Charlie looked back at his parents one last time but couldn’t quite force the reassuring smile and goodbye he had planned. Instead he looked ready to burst into tears and he hoped they could see how much pain he was in because of them. “One, two—“ Charlie could hardly breathe as he returned his attention to the watch, so ready to be with Sirius, his hand poised above the portkey like it was magnetized. “—three.”

Charlie was too focused on making sure that Ginny landed safely in the castle, that he forgot to account for his own clumsiness. As his feet hit the tile of an entirely different kitchen than the one he just left, he slipped and went careening backwards. However, his back never hit the ground, and when he opened his eyes his vision was completely overwhelmed by the color of storm clouds.

“You knew I was coming,” Charlie asked, a bit dazed by the sudden head-rush his dip had caused.

Sirius grinned down at the redhead. “No it was just supremely good timing Weasley. Why are you so terrible when it comes to portkeys?”

“Maybe I just hope you’ll catch me.” Charlie’s voice was surprisingly lacking in sarcasm as he smiled shyly up at Sirius.

Sirius’s expression grew fond. “Always,” he whispered.

There was a passive aggressive clearing of the throat and both men turned their head toward the noise in unison.

“Hi there,” Alice greeted, her arm wrapped around Ginny. Both girls were eyeing them with undisguised humor. “I figured I’d stop you before you got to the whole ‘You’re the cutest.’ ‘No, you’re the cutest.’ phase.”

Sirius snorted before helping Charlie back to an upright position. “We don’t do that.”

“Because someone’s always there to stop you,” Alice countered. “Now how about you introduce this darling girl, Charles?” Alice squeezed Ginny tighter like she couldn’t help herself.

“Right— uh…” Charlie stuttered. “Well, guys, this is my sister Ginny. Gin, this Sirius and Alice.”

“Hi Ginny. It’s nice to finally meet another Holyhead Harpies fan,” Sirius greeted with an ease that Charlie very much envied. 

Ginny looked ecstatic at the mention of her favorite quidditch team and she glanced down at her uniform with pride. “You like the Harpies?”

“Are you kidding?” 

Sirius practically hummed with energy as he crouched down next to Ginny and proceeded to weave an extravagant tale of the time he and Tonks attended the famous Holyhead game against their rivals Puddlemere United five years ago. Charlie and Alice glanced up at each other and rolled their eyes good-naturedly.

“…Valmai scored ten goals while Griffiths didn’t even get a chance on the field, having been forced to sit on the bench the whole game. That will teach Griffiths to leave the best team in the league to go play for those River Piddle has-beens.”

“Wow,” Ginny marveled. “Was Gwenog on the team yet?”  
“Nope, she joined the year after. Why? Is she your favorite?”

Ginny nodded suddenly turning shy again. Charlie thought it best to speak up. “So where are the boys at?”

Sirius returned to a standing position before answering. “Where else? They have a whole castle to explore and they’re outside flying.”

Charlie grinned. “Isn’t it a bit cool for that?”

“Remus set up the wards so… no not so much. It could be summer out there as far as the weather is concerned,” Sirius groused. “I complained about the lack of snow, but Moony had to be all logical about it. ‘We wouldn’t be able to see the fireworks, Padfoot,’” Sirius mocked. “So here we are. I bring my family to this beautiful castle that I restored with my own two hands…” Sirius sighed. “And they’ve barely set a foot in the place.”

“Well I would like a tour,” Charlie revealed. He turned to Ginny. “How about it Gin?” There was a long pause as Ginny sheepishly looked away. Charlie chuckled. “You want to go fly, don’t you?”

Ginny side-eyed her older brother before nodding and shooting him a pleading smile. Charlie sighed in mock-exasperation as he took out Ginny’s broomstick from his pocket and enlarged it once more. “Fine, let’s go.”

“I can take her,” Alice piped in. “If you don’t mind, that is, Miss Weasley.”

Charlie looked down at Ginny in question who shrugged in response. “You sure,” Charlie asked.  
“Yeah that’ll be fine,” Ginny said, looking considerably more at ease with each passing second now that the prospect of playing quidditch was on the table.

“Great,” Alice said, clapping her hands together. “Then you can go with Syr to pick up dinner and I can go fly with the kids. See you later.”

“Have fun,” Charlie called after Ginny as she was lead out of the kitchens by the auror. “Now,” he continued turning back to his boyfriend, “what did she mean by pick up dinner?”

Instead of answering, Sirius wrapped his arms around the redhead and pressed his lips to Charlie’s. When he broke the kiss, Sirius leaned in and murmured softly into Charlie’s ear, “You’re the cutest.”

Charlie laughed and squeezed Sirius tighter until they practically molded together. “What was it I was supposed to say again?”

“No, you’re the cutest,” Sirius reminded him.

“Well it’s true,” Charlie admitted.

Sirius leaned back. “I missed you.”

Charlie decided he wouldn’t point out that he had only been gone for one night, because that one night had been torture for Charlie as well. His bed at the Burrow didn’t really feel like his bed anymore since Sirius wasn’t laying beside him. He suddenly dreaded the day he had to return to Romania. “I missed you too.”

“So let’s give you that tour then, shall we,” Sirius said, finally letting go of Charlie, but keeping them connected by taking Charlie’s hand in his own. “And then we’ll go pick up dinner.”

“Seriously, though, what do you mean by pick up?”

***

Tonks wasn’t all that surprised to find Charlie at the castle when she arrived after work. She was surprised, however, to find his sister Ginny sandwiched between Charlie and Sirius on the couch asking the latter a hundred questions a minute.

“How old are you?”

“32.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“December 6th.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Hmm… blue.”

“Did you go to Hogwarts?”

“Yup.”

“What house were you in?”  
“I was a Gryffindor, just like Charlie.”

“Was your whole family in Gryffindor?”

“Uh— well, no. Most of them were in Slytherin.”

“Is this really your castle?”

“It is. Charlie was there when I bought it.”

“Do you love my brother?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“When you get married, will that make me Draco and Harry’s aunt?”

Sirius laughed. “Yes, I suppose it would. You good with that kiddos?”

Instead of answering, Draco asked, “Can Aunt Ginny stay for the fireworks?”

Tonks watched Charlie as he turned away from the others so they couldn’t see how glossy his eyes became after Draco’s casual acceptance that one day Ginny would become his aunt. Unfortunately for him, looking away from the others meant looking straight at where Tonks was hiding. When he noticed her presence, he smiled shyly. Tonks smiled back.

“Tonks!” Suddenly the lavender-haired auror had an armful of Ginerva Weasley who jumped from the sofa and practically leapt at the older witch.

“Wotcher Ginny. Long time no see,” Tonks greeted, hugging the girl tight and twirling her around, Ginny’s Holyhead Harpy-colored quidditch robes billowing behind her. Finally she set Ginny down and said, “Please tell me I didn’t miss dinner.”

Charlie stood and enveloped Tonks in a hug of his own, Ginny now sandwiched between them. “Happy New Year, Flash. And no, the pizzas are in the kitchen. We were waiting for you.”

“Well let’s go then, I’m starving.”

After the Black family and their friends gathered in the lavish dining room for the traditional New Years Eve dinner of muggle takeaway pizza, a tradition started after Sirius Black declared New Years Eve and New Years Day unofficial House Elf days off, the ten residents of the castle (which included Sirius, Draco, Harry, Charlie, Ginny, Steven, Alice, Neville, Remus, and Tonks) all gathered outside for fireworks. Harry decided it was a New Year somewhere when nine o’clock struck and demanded that Ginny be able to witness the firework show Sirius, Remus, and Steven performed every year before she had to return home.

The show was a sight to behold.

Tonks had witnessed firework displays by these men before, but this year’s was truly spectacular. This New Years Eve’s story involved a bunch of different animals coming together to form a dragon in order to protect a small village from a tyrannical monarchy. Tonks realized then that the previous years’ firework shows always held a hidden meaning, and she shared a look with Alice who must have noticed as well. It hit her just then how long these men had been hiding such a dangerous secret and how hard it must have been for them to keep it to themselves all this time.

After the finale, everyone except the two Weasleys held their wands to the sky shooting off red and green sparks. Tonks watched with a smile on her face as Harry, Draco, and Neville danced across the garden, clearly excited to finally be able to join in on this particular tradition now that they had wands of their own. Charlie, with his sister perched on his shoulders, laughed and cheered, shouting “Happy New Year” into the endless night sky.

And for the first time since the incident, Tonks let herself think about her Mum and Dad. “Happy New Year,” she whispered. She knew her parents wouldn’t hear the sentiment, but Tonks was glad she said it anyway. Wherever they were at that moment, she could at least wish them a Happy New Year. She may never be willing to give more than that, but even this little bit was good fist step for Tonks.

***

After Charlie and Tonks left to return Ginerva home to her parents, Snape found himself in the dining room enjoying a scotch with Alice and Sirius.

“Well she was adorable,” Alice hummed around the lip of her glass.

“That she was,” Sirius agreed, taking a shot of the scotch like the uncultured swine that he was. Snape laughed at his own thoughts. He might have already swallowed his fair share of the Scottish liquor that night and may need to think about taking that sobering potion he had in his pocket if he thought comparing Sirius to a pig was at all humorous. 

“I gather his parents didn’t want to come?”

Sirius sighed. “You gather correctly, Alice.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sirius waved her sympathy away. “I’m used to it. Charlie says he’s working on them and that tonight was a step in the right direction since Ginny seemed to enjoy getting to know me. I’m certain one day they’ll regret their words.”

Severus leaned his cheek heavily on an open palm. “How do you know?”

Sirius looked over at Severus and flashed him a shit-eating grin. “Because I remember saying some pretty idiotic things in my time. And thankfully, I’ve learned it’s never too late to apologize.”

Snape snorted in understanding.

“Actually,” Sirius continued, “it’s never too late to do just about anything.”

There was clearly significance behind that statement and Severus glanced up at Sirius curiously. “Meaning?”

“Nothing Steven,” Sirius conceded. “I meant nothing.”

***Ten Years Ago***

“Nothing. All they write about in this bloody paper is Sirius Black this and Sirius Black that and they still can’t find him? Man should be in prison—”

“Give it a rest, Stubby,” Rosmerta told the bar patron, “or I’ll cut you off. We don’t need you proselytizing us with these opinions of yours for the rest of the night. It’s New Year’s.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just take my patronage elsewhere.”

“Sounds good. Bye.”

Snape snorted from his corner of the bar where he was laying his head on the cool wood countertop, his eyes closed as he tried to stave off the nausea. Eight glasses of fire whiskey did not a good idea make.

This had been far more difficult than he had expected, being away from Sirius and the boys this past week. He had expended most of his time tinkering with the wolfsbane potion for Remus, having just been witness to the man he had begun to call friend shift during the full moon in agonizing pain. He was pretty sure he had made some serious upgrades to the original potion, but he couldn’t spend another minute alone in the lab missing his family— friends. 

And he missed them so much, more than he ever thought possible.

“I’m just saying that—“  
“I thought you were leaving,” Rosie interrupted. “Goodbye Stubby.”

Snape listened to the man grumble his way out of Rosie’s establishment. A few seconds later he felt a presence block out the light and leave him in shadows. He winked open an eyelid to find Rosemerta Ogden’s beautiful face in front of him.

“You alright?”

Snape breathed in deeply through his nostrils gearing himself to sit up straight again. “Fine. It’s just…” 

My best friend is being accused of kidnapping the most famous child in the Wizarding world, my former master who everyone thinks is dead is actually in the wind waiting for the perfect time to strike again, I haven’t seen my Godson in nearly a week, and the only thing keeping me sane right now is being here with you.

Yeah, that would go over well. “…been a long week,” Snape finished instead.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Severus finally righted himself and stared at Rosie for a long moment. “Yes,” he admitted. “But—“

“But you’re not going to,” she concluded for him. 

Her face was so close now, her smile blinding, and her cerulean eyes mesmerizing. Severus shook his head.

“Severus, I—“ Rosie sighed. “Severus, I’ll be here to talk if you need it.”

Snape nodded his head in thanks. “I— I should probably go—“

“Stay.”

Severus blinked as if to make sure that Rosie was really there and that word had actually been uttered from her mouth. “Why?”

Rosemerta clicked her tongue at the inquiry and backed away from Severus for the first time in minutes. He felt bereft without her nearby presence. “Just stay if you want.”

And he did want. He wanted to stay and tell Rosie how he felt. He wanted to stay and talk with her all night. He wanted to stay and be with her.

But his life was complicated.

That’s just how it was.

So he left.

“Happy New Year.”

***Present***

Severus’s eyes cleared from the memory and they focused on Sirius’s face who’s head tilted in curiosity. He suddenly felt more sober than he had in ages.

“I uh… I have to, uh…“

“Go,” Sirius finished..

Severus smiled up at Sirius who was grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah… I’m gonna go.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Severus confirmed.

There was a long pause as both men just stared at each other. 

“Well go,” Alice urged. “I have no idea what we are talking about, but it seems important and you’re just sitting here like a bump on a log, Steven. Go, go!”

Sirius laughed and like always, Snape couldn’t help but laugh with him. It was infectious. He felt giddy as he stood from the table and took a deep breath to calm the sudden swell of nerves. His hands were sweaty.

“Good luck,” Sirius added swiftly.

“Thanks, mate.”

***

“This area is off limits,” came the tiny, slightly exasperated voice Severus had been waiting for since he apparated into the Three Broomsticks liquor cabinet.

“I know,” he announced to the darkness.

“Lumos,” she incanted and when the lanterns around him lit up, she gasped at the sight of him. “Severus?”

Snape remained frozen to the spot as her eyes, the color of the Great Lake once it’s been iced over during the winter months, landed on him. His heart pounded in his chest and despite all it took to get him here, to this moment, he still wanted to flee.

“What are you doing here?”

The question snapped him out of his current state and he let out the breath he had been holding forcefully. “I received some advice tonight,” he proclaimed.

Rosmerta looked up from under her lashes, the surprise in her eyes at his presence slowly waning. “Oh?”

Severus rubbed the back of his neck, just to do something with his hands. It might not be too late to do this as Steven… but no. He had to tell her with the face that he wore ten years ago. “It was given unintentionally, I’m sure,” Snape said, not wanting to give Sirius any credit even when he wasn’t present to notice, “but… I decided to take it.”

“And what was this advice that you are currently putting into use,” Rosie asked.

“It went something along the lines of—“ Snape scrunched up his nose as he thought how best to summarize Sirius’s words— “It’s not too late to… fix your mistakes.”

Rosmerta blinked. “And you think you made a mistake concerning me?”

Snape nodded and took a step closer to her. Considering how small the supply cupboard was, they were now only about a meter away from each other. Rosmerta remained where she stood and Severus took that as a good sign.

“I was just thinking… what would have happened that night, ten years ago?” Rosie stayed silent but the slight turn of her head lead Severus to believe she remembered. “Or even before that. You know, when I was seventeen.” Rosmerta ran a hand through her strawberry blonde locks and locked eyes with Severus. “I don’t know if you remember, or even knew at all… but I used to go to Hogsmeade during my last year just to— well, to see you. I’m sure I wasn't the only one doing that mind you.” Rosie bit her lip to keep from smiling, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. Snape, however, refused to keep his grin contained. “Rosmerta Ogden,” Snape breathed. “Every person who knew her name instantly thought themselves to be half in love with her. And every Hogsmeade trip, there she would be: seated at the counter of her father’s little pub concocting her own unique drinks, like a skilled potions master, when she was supposed to be studying for her metal-charming license.”

Rosmerta guffawed and shook her head shyly at the wood floor. “Metal was boring,” she mused.

Severus hummed in agreement and stepped a little closer. “What might have happened if I had asked you out then,” Snape wondered, the question completely rhetorical.

“I would have said yes,” Rosie replied immediately, looking up into those obsidian eyes, thoroughly shocking Severus to his core, so much so that he jumped back a bit and gaped down at her. “You came to see me during Hogsmeade visits and I was always there,” Rosmerta continued confidently. “I was there because I was waiting for you.”  
It was Severus’s turn to blink. “Why?” He was genuinely confused by this.

Rosie took a step closer to Severus this time. “You told the best stories,” she whispered.

Snape stared down at this gorgeous woman in wonderment. “I made them all up you know,” he murmured, and realized immediately that he had uttered a similar phrase when disguised as Steven Prince just a little over a week earlier. He hoped Rosie didn’t notice.

“Oh I know you did,” she said, nodding her head and stepping even closer. She now had to angle her chin up in order to look into his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy hearing them.”

Severus knew his eyes widened exponentially at her choice of words. He was absolutely positive those were Rosie’s exact words to Steven Prince and that couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it?

“You look frightened Severus,” Rosie noticed. “Is that because I recently said something just like that to you?” 

Snape took a step back, but there wasn’t really anywhere to go. He cursed himself for acting so unusually and for even coming here in the first place. He was a better actor than this surely.

Rosie’s smile grew wide with excitement. “I knew it,” she exclaimed and Severus clenched his teeth, wincing slightly. “I guessed a really long time ago. I was convinced that you came in as this Steven Prince bloke just for the anonymity. You would come into The Three Broomsticks to talk to me, just as you had always done before.” Rosie’s smile was so beautiful it hurt to look at. “And then last week, Steven was with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black and I thought I had it all wrong. I thought there was no possible way Severus Snape would interact willingly with those two Gryffindors who, according to the rumor mill at Hogwarts, weren’t particularly nice to him over the years. And I was heartbroken when I realized that Steven Prince and Severus Snape were not one in the same as I had always assumed.”

“It broke your heart,” Severus asked, his voice croaky and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes,” she proclaimed. “Because that meant that Severus Snape hadn’t told me a story in ten years!”

The silence in the tiny cupboard was deafening. Snape didn’t know what to say.

“But I wasn’t wrong, was I? You are Steven Prince. You do still come to my pub spouting off mad tales of giant hippogriffs and sneaky nifflers,” Rosmerta cried happily. “You do still seek out my company even after all these years.”

“Of course I do,” Snape responded quickly. “Of course.”

“Good,” stated the beautiful woman before him, her large icy blue eyes gazing up at him with that stubbornness he always found alluring.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Snape warned.

Her lips curled up slightly before she frowned. “If all you want is just a New Year’s kiss, then you can have it, and I will not tell anyone about your identity.” She smiled a little, reassuring him that she would keep his secrets. “But if you want more… then you can have it, and I will not tell anyone about your identity.”

Severus licked his lips which had suddenly gone dry and stared down at Rosie Ogden as he thought this over. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I will be more than hurt if you leave without choosing one of the two options I just gave you. In fact, I will be devastated.”

Severus leaned down and captured her soft pink lips with his own. The kiss was slow and sweet until he felt her lay a palm on his chest, sneaking a finger through the gaps in between the buttons of his muggle dress shirt that he had forgotten he was even wearing as Steven Prince earlier that evening. He wrapped his arms around her slim frame, lifting her slightly and kissing her deeper before running his tongue along the seam of her lips, urging her to allow him access. She obliged easily and the minute his tongue found hers, she sighed into his open mouth in what could only be described as relief. With that simple act, Severus Snape made up his mind.

He leaned back, ending the kiss abruptly and Snape couldn’t help but notice the disappointment on Rosmerta’s face. He would always and forever be in awe that this woman wanted him of all people, but he wasn’t going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. He reached up and clutched her face gently between the palms of his hands and brought their foreheads together, breathing in her scent. She smelled like a grassy knoll after a rainy day and the musky scent of oak. It was delightful. “I want more.”

Rosie laughed, creating little puffs of air against Snape’s lips. “Good.”

Severus smiled and then sucked in his lips, clearing his throat as he tried to think of a way to explain everything, all the things that he needed to tell her. He was also not looking forward to Sirius’s and Remus’s smug faces when he told them about Rosmerta Ogden, the sixth person who would be joining the small, elite group who knew everything regarding his identity. “I uh—“

A finger to his lips halted his explanations. “You can tell me your secrets tomorrow Severus,” Rosie said, lifting an eyebrow playfully. “But as for right now…” Rosie gripped his arms tightly and the next he knew, Severus was being pulled by the navel to the destination of Rosmerta Ogden’s choosing.

Severus blinked when his feet landed easily on a wooden floor that looked very similar to the type they just left behind in the cupboard. “Well if I didn’t know any better, I would say we’re still in The Three Broomsticks. But you can’t possibly have any rooms available on New Year’s Eve.”

Rosie snorted and started dragging him toward the bed. “Of course not. But I do live here you know?”

“Ah,” Severus said, grinning wickedly. “Well I’m a bit dim.”

“Maybe a little,” Rosie agreed, before twisting him around and pushing Severus gently onto the bed behind him.

Snape took notice of the crimson colored bedspread and the golden drapes and smirked. “Ugh. Gryffindors. I’m surrounded by them.”

Rosie giggled before climbing on top of him, settling herself between his thighs. “Now now,” she chastised. “You know I was a Ravenclaw, Severus, don’t joke.”

“So why the color scheme,” he asked, although he honestly couldn’t care less about the answer as he sat up and grasped her hips, his fingers sneaking up her blouse.

“I don’t know. It’s pretty,” she said, before grasping his face and leaning in for a kiss. “Happy New Year Severus.”

“Happy New Year Rosie.”

***

Sirius woke up with the sun that New Years day, his entire being wrapped up in the spindly limbs of the man he loved. He had no desire to leave the confines of his boyfriend’s embrace, but the fullness of his bladder meant it was necessary. He was careful to abstract himself so as not to wake up Charlie from his slumber; the man probably needed all the sleep he could get after the copious amount of alcohol he consumed the night before. Charlie more than caught up to everyone else, shot for shot, after he and Tonks returned from the Burrow. Eventually Sirius was free enough to slip out of bed and he shifted into his animagus form to sneak out of the room and down the hall toward the toilet.

After relieving himself, Sirius made his way back to the master bedroom of his Irish castle when his eye caught the open doorway that would lead to one of the boy’s rooms. He stepped up to the door and peaked a head inside, only to find it empty. Across the hallway was the door to an identical room, this one closed. Sirius tiptoed over and gently turned the knob making no sound in the process. Cracking the door open a few inches, he poked his nose through the opening and smiled at the sight before him.

The bed was stripped of all it’s sheets and blankets and curled up on the floor sleeping peacefully across from each other, curled up in makeshift sleeping bags, were his children. His sons. The reasons his heart warmed and ached. The reasons he got up in the morning and the reasons he had trouble getting to sleep at night. Two boys who were never meant to be brothers but were, in every sense of the word except blood.

Seeing them now, Sirius wanted desperately to wrap them up and force them to stay within earshot. He wanted to protect them from all the terrible shit this world had to offer and make it so they had to stay young forever. He wanted time to stop so he could live in this moment for the rest of his days.

It must have been some time that he stood there watching Draco and Harry snore softly because when next he looked out the window, the sun was much higher in the sky and he could hear footsteps behind him. A pair of muscled forearms that alluded to years of flying wrapped around Sirius’s torso and he couldn’t help but sag into Charlie’s bare chest with a sigh.

“What are you doing,” Charlie whispered right into his ear, making Sirius squirm as he tried helplessly to escape the onslaught. Charlie hummed a low chuckle at his attempt and the sound went through his body like an earthquake.

I really have it bad, don’t I, Sirius mused as he subtly stepped away from the door and back toward his bedroom, dragging a smirking and willing redhead behind him.

“You know,” Charlie hissed, continuing the assault on Sirius’s ears and sending shivers down his spine, “this is a very nice castle.”

“Why thank you,” Sirius said over his shoulder throwing him a cheeky wink.

“And I find it hilarious that there are probably fifty beds in this place and Draco and Harry are sleeping on the floor.”

Sirius smirked as he slipped back into the master bedroom and shuffled into the en suite bathroom to wash his face and hands before starting breakfast. “Reminds me a bit of James and I when we first shared a flat together,” Sirius announced while running his hand under the faucet. Charlie leaned against the bathroom doorframe, a small smile on his lips. “There were two bedrooms in the place but it felt odd sleeping alone after sharing a dorm room with the man for seven years at Hogwarts. It wasn’t until Lily started spending the night that I realized I should probably get over it. James never vanished the second bed in his room though.”

Charlie chuckled amiably. “Yeah, I remember Percy being the same way when Bill went off to school. His absence meant an empty room at the Burrow which Mum was quick to set Perc up in, but he would sneak back into my room in the middle of the night and curl up on the floor. We tried everything to get him to stop, but eventually Dad just gave up and conjured another bed for my room so his son wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor anymore. Gods, I really miss when my little brother was that age.”

Sirius turned off the faucet and shook his hands to remove the moisture in lieu of a flannel. Me too.

The silence that followed his frankly depressing thoughts about Regulus lasted a little too long and Sirius turned his head to see the curiosity in the redhead’s gaze. “Oh,” Sirius breathed out in sudden comprehension. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Sirius sighed and left the toilet before Charlie could answer his rhetorical question. He could feel the pair of blue eyes on his back as he returned to the hallway and proceeded down the grand staircase to the kitchens to start breakfast for the six— five? Sirius couldn’t recall if Severus ever returned from his spontaneous outing the night before— other inhabitants of the castle that New Years Day morning. Obviously Corey usually made breakfast, but Sirius was perfectly capable of cooking a few plates of egg scramble, so he set off to his tasks for the morning.

As he took all the necessary ingredients out of the cooler, he felt Charlie’s presence in the kitchen behind him. But his boyfriend didn’t ask questions or even lift an eyebrow as Sirius started the stovetop and let a dollop of butter simmer in the frying pan.

Throughout the cooking process, his mind was practically brimming with thoughts of Reg. It was unsurprising really. Sirius had prepared for this eventuality since he arrived at the castle yesterday. What was surprising was it took him until this morning to start thinking of his deceased little brother. He thought it would have happened much sooner.

The scramble was done fairly quickly and he removed the pan from the burner and put the concoction under a stasis charm. With nothing else to occupy his time Sirius realized he had to say something. What came out of his mouth, however, was not what he expected.

“What am I going to do with this castle, Charlie?”

Sirius’s eyes flickered up to meet the brilliant blue of Charlie Weasley’s and the redhead tilted his head slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, realized he didn’t know how, promptly shut it with a click of his teeth and a small chuckle, and finally opened his mouth once again to answer. “You’re right,” Sirius said with a shrug of his shoulders that didn’t necessarily convey the nonchalance he was going for. “There are fifty beds in this place and my entire family couldn’t even take up a quarter of them. I spent the last four months fixing this place up and we’ll maybe visit it twice a year? It’s just…” Sirius closed his eyes with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he could feel an emotion-fueled headache emerging like being walloped by a enraged erumpent. He felt a sad smile befall his expression and he opened his eyes again. “I bought this place for him, and he’s never going to see it. So tell me, Charlie, what’s the point? What’s the point if Regulus will never set foot in this place? Never see these walls, or walk these halls, or—“

Sirius swallowed around the lump in his throat and continued. “It’s just… I promised him, you know?” Sirius wished he would stop talking and keep his emotions in check while simultaneously wishing he could let go fully and unburden this guilt that had been building in his chest for the last ten years. It looked like he was getting his second wish. “I told him I’d take him away from those awful people. And they were awful. Mother shrieked about blood purity like it was her career and Father was distant and cold. And they both looked down on everyone like they were nothing more than insects beneath their boots. I promised Reg that we’d escape. That we’d go live in a castle like those in the legends of Arthur and Merlin I used to read to him in secret before bed. 

“But then I turned eleven and I went to Hogwarts. I got to live in that castle and escape that lifestyle. I escaped. Without him.”

Sirius shook his head ruefully. There were many things he regretted: letting Peter be the Secret Keeper despite his instincts telling him otherwise, for example. But leaving Regulus behind and letting him follow in the footsteps of their parents? He should have taken better care of his little brother.

“Sirius.” His name forced Sirius out of his downward spiral and he looked up at Charlie. The man’s expression was not what he expected. He’d assumed a look of pity at the very least, but Sirius should have known by now to never assume when it came to Charles Weasley. Rather than sympathy or disgust Charlie portrayed an expression of contemplation, like he had heard every word of Sirius’s diatribe and instead decided to focus on the question. The first question: 

What am I going to do with this castle? 

Sirius could’ve kissed him he was so happy. How can this man know me so well when we have only really known each other for five months? There was no anguished cries of his name followed by an embrace. There was no holding him while he cried in Charlie’s arm. The redhead simply was moving on. Sirius was overjoyed by this development. If he didn’t realize how much he loved this man before— back when he just casually invited him to have Christmas with the family— then he knew now, without a doubt. He was in love with Charlie Weasley.

“Thank you.”

Charlie’s clouded gaze focused at the expression of gratitude and he flashed Sirius a small smile in understanding before reverting to his state of contemplation. Sirius waited patiently holding back the cheshire cat grin that threatened to adorn his face at any moment.

Finally, Charlie took a deep breath and returned his full attention to Sirius. “Okay, so I don’t know if you’re going to like this idea. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to sell this place but it’s clear you don’t want to keep it and let it go to waste. So… I was talking to my Dad a few nights ago about your school. He said that you would be looking for a place to house the classrooms in the New Year, but… what if you already had a place? Those fifty rooms could be fifty classrooms.”

Sirius climbed onto the island countertop that separated them, grabbed Charlie’s face, and brought it close, forcing their lips together. “I. Love. You,” he managed between kisses.

“Get a room.” Sirius released Charlie and cocked his head toward the open doorway to the kitchen where an amused Tonks stood, casually leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded. “There are fifty of them,” she mocked.

There was a brief pause as the three occupants of the large kitchen just stared at each other, Sirius still perched on the marble countertop. Then Charlie charged at his best friend who squeaked in faux fear and dashed from the room, the redhead chasing after her. Sirius watched them go, his smile so wide it bordered on unnatural.

Sirius felt a sudden dip in the wards Remus set up around the castle. He counted two wizards approaching the front door. He hopped down from the island and headed to the foyer, mulling over who it might be since so few knew about this place. When a knock sounded throughout the house, he let his wand fall into the palm of his hand just in case. He yanked open the tall double french doors to find Frank Longbottom.

“Oh hey,” Sirius said, immediately lowering his wand but not stowing it away completely. “Did Neville leave something here. I swear, that boy would forget his own head— Frank? Are you alright?”

The esteemed Auror stood straight as an arrow, his eyebrows pinched in sorrow. He looked tired after what must have been almost a sixteen hour shift last night. Behind him, a young man with long, shaggy brown hair also wearing the auror uniform shifted nervously. Sirius’s eyes flashed back to his friend who looked to be trying very hard to hold back a grimace.

“Frank—“ Sirius couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. He felt like his ribcage was constricting, squeezing his heart until all he could hear was the banging in his eardrums as it beat too hard and too fast. He swallowed around another lump in his throat and sucked in oxygen like he had spent the last five minutes a mile beneath the ocean’s surface. “Frank,” he choked.

“Lord Black,” Frank began and Sirius’s heart stopped beating. No. No! Don’t call me that. Please don’t call me that. “I regret to inform you that early this morning Mr. and Mrs. Tonks were found dead in their Swedish hotel room.”

Sirius closed his eyes.

The sound of giggling echoed down the hall and Sirius twisted around just in time to see a squirming Tonks wrestle her way out of Charlie’s hold. “I give. I give,” she wheezed in concession, clearly out of breath from all the laughing. She looked up from where she was doubled over trying to catch her breath and eyed the scene before her. “What’s going on?”

Sirius closed his eyes again.

Happy fucking New Year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I’m sorry.
> 
> If you guys didn’t see the brief message I left on ff.net last week where I explained that I would be posting Chapter 22 this Wednesday, please note that, yes, I will be posting Chapter 22 on Wednesday 12/6. It’s kind of a sad chapter to post on my birthday, but… whatever. You guys have been amazing, so it’s worth it.


	22. 1:22- Forgive Draco

Three days later marked the first Wizengamot summit of the new year on January 4th, 1992. The summit was cancelled.

Instead nearly every member of the council and almost the entire St. Mungo’s staff gathered around the burial sites of Edward and Andromeda Tonks. Most huddled for warmth in the cool crisp winter air.

Nearest to the graves stood their daughter Nymphadora Tonks and the wife’s cousin, Lord Sirius Black. Severus Snape had never seen the two look more miserable in his life and he promptly turned away from the sight.

He glanced down at the boy next to him, Draco, standing stoic and strong. It was times like these Severus saw the man Draco would one day become and that warmed his heart in the face of this past week’s tragedy. But perhaps Draco was only able to hold it together because he knew the caskets in front of him were empty. Ted and Andromeda’s bodies were still being examined after the aurors declared their deaths “Homicides.” The whole funeral was a sham and Severus couldn’t really blame his Godson if he was treating it as such.

On the other side of Draco stood Harry, Remus, and Charlie. The five of them had decided before the funeral to let Sirius and Tonks have their moment alone. But they stayed close behind the two for support.

He felt his right hand being squeezed in reassurance. He looked in that direction where his beautiful girlfriend stood smiling at him. He gave a small smile back. Oh how he wished now for the embarrassing introductions in which Remus and Sirius would grin like cats that ate the canary. Instead they learned of his night with Rosmerta Ogden through his statement to the aurors as to his whereabouts that early morning. He finally had the courage to be with Rosie and on day one of their relationship, she had to be Steven Prince’s alibi. Of course.

He turned back to Draco and rested a palm on the young wizard’s shoulder. The blonde looked up at him and Severus gave him a comforting smile. Draco shrugged and stepped a few inches closer to Severus, turning his body away from the biting wind. Severus wrapped his arm around the boy and returned his attention to the procession.

Snape could already imagine tomorrow. Tonks would withdraw into seclusion and spend the next month trying her hardest to worm her way onto her parents’ case as her alter-ego Natasha Bolt. Frank and Alice made assurances that Natasha would not be added to the investigation. According to the auror couple, even Head Auror Moody had declared that she would not be on this case. Severus could only hope that Tonks didn’t spiral out of control because of this.

And tomorrow, Sirius would do quite the opposite of his young cousin. He would surround himself with as much family as he could muster. Considering Draco, Harry, and himself would be heading back to Hogwarts the next day, and Charlie would be returning to Romania the day after that, Severus dreaded to think about the state of Sirius’s head when he was left with only Remus for company. Not that Remus was a slouch when it came to helping Sirius through a crisis. But the last time someone close to Sirius died, he had other things to occupy his mind, like the care of two children and the fact that he was wanted for kidnapping by the unified wizarding government. Severus was very curious to find out what Sirius would put his entire being into this time. He expected the Grimstag Institute of Learning to be completed by summer and the way to destroy a Horcrux discovered by next week.

The clouds had rolled in near the end of the funeral and snowflakes began falling from the sky. The crowd dressed in black began to dissipate until only Sirius, Tonks, Charlie, Remus, Harry, Draco, and Snape remained. Rosie had given another squeeze of his hand before she left with a pop of disapparition. There was going to be a wake at the Three Broomsticks but the seven still at the cemetery had no desire to attend, what people thought of their absence be damned.

“I need to be alone,” came the hauntingly monotonous voice of Tonks and before anyone could protest, she vanished as well. Charlie jumped as if he was about to go after her before thinking better of it and returning to his previous position.

Remus turned to the two boys and said, “How about we go home?”

Draco looked over at his dad who had barely uttered a word these last four days. Sirius glanced up and gave a reassuring smile, nodding his head in answer. So the six of them, Remus taking ahold of Harry, and Severus taking ahold of Draco, disapparated away from the Leeds graveyard and appeared outside their slightly warmer home in the country farmlands of Essex. Well, only five appeared. Sirius Black was nowhere to be found.

Remus turned to Severus and they proceeded to have a silent conversation. “I’ll go,” Severus decided for them.

Remus nodded and turned to the other three. “I bet Corey will make some hot cocoa if we ask nicely.” Draco and Harry smiled at the attempt but didn’t dispute it. While the four wizards ambled up to the two-story house, Severus twisted on the spot and materialized in the second graveyard he had the pleasure of visiting that day. He reorientated himself until he knew which direction their graves were at and headed that way. But when he arrived at James and Lily’s gravestones, there was no Sirius Black. He conjured a green tulip and placed it on the ground by Lily’s tombstone before spinning around, scouring the place for any sign of his friend.

There were no footprints in the crisp snow except for his own and he took a moment to ponder where else Sirius might have gone. Thinking there was only one other place he could possibly be, Severus disapparated and appeared in a third graveyard, this one in Dover. Snape considered the fact that he might not be allowed to visit this cemetery since it was located just outside Black Manor and Sirius had the power to shut everyone out if he wanted, but Severus was able to make his way through the meadow without any problems. Perhaps he had no problems because he was invited.

Severus halted mid-step and remained where he stood when he caught sight of Sirius’s cloaked frame in front of the eleven-year-old tombstone. Despite it’s age, it was still the newest in the cemetery. Sirius was stroking the engraved letters of her name when he spoke.

“Of the three Black sisters, of course Bellatrix has to be the last one to bloody die.” Sirius stopped tracing the “k” and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “What a bitch.”

Severus resumed his progression and settled down on the grass next to Sirius. The ground was still wet from that morning’s shower. It didn’t matter.

The two men sat in silence for a long time. Snape hadn’t visited Narcissa’s grave very often in the last eleven years, so it was good to just be there for a moment, this spot where his life had changed drastically, where the man next to him had apologized and forgave and where Severus had done so in return.

“You know I love you, right?”

Severus twisted his head sharply to face the wizard next to him. “Yes,” he answered simply.

Silver eyes sparkled in the waning light of this truly depressing Saturday. Sirius shook his head ruefully. “Gods, why couldn’t we have been friends in school? Do you think the houses were this divided before he-who-must-not-be-named?”

Severus blinked at the alias that hadn’t been used by Sirius once in the entire time Sev had known him. “He doesn’t scare me,” Snape declared.

“He should,” Sirius snapped, his eyes welling up with tears. “He scares the shit out of me.” Severus shifted around until he was facing Sirius completely, desperately trying to think of a way to calm his best friend down. “I don’t know how he did it, but he killed them,” Sirius continued, his words coming fast and panicked. “Just like he killed James and Lily and in his own roundabout way Narcissa and Regulus. I don’t know why he does it either. Maybe he just enjoys killing my family. He enjoys knowing that I’m sitting here terrified of him. And I can’t help it. I’m fucking terrified, Severus. Because if I lose one more person…”

Sirius’s sentence drifts off, left unfinished, but Severus could fill in the blanks. And he didn’t know what to say. He was truly terrible at this. He wasn’t one to make promises he couldn't keep. Tell him the address of your house where your family lives and is protected; Severus Snape will take that secret to the grave. But he couldn’t promise that Voldemort wouldn’t murder him in cold blood. That man was an egotistical, raving lunatic. Tom Riddle was as unpredictable as they came in all ways but one: he would kill anyone and everyone if it struck his fancy. Even a loyal follower such as Severus is perceived to be.

“I shagged Rosmerta Ogden and her room is decorated in Gryffindor colors.”

Sirius froze in place. It was five seconds before he turned to face Severus openmouthed. Snape stared right back, his face completely blank. “What did you just say,” Sirius asked.

“I shagged. Rosmerta. Ogden,” Severus deadpanned.

There was ten seconds of silence before Sirius burst into unrestrained, joyous laughter. It was the most beautiful sound Severus had ever heard and his lips turned up at the corners as he watched one of the most powerful wizards in the world collapse onto the cold wet ground in a fit of hysterics.

It was a good minute and a half before the giggling stopped and Sirius returned to an upright position, his black chenille cloak covered in splotches of mud from his roll in the grass. Sirius breathed out one final audible sigh and smiled at Severus. “Alright I’m good now. We can go home.”

Severus smiled and they both stood up, shaking off patches of caked on dirt from their robes and cloaks. They both glanced at the gravestone of one Narcissa Black and Severus pulled out his wand and conjured a white calla lily. He placed it at the base of the stone. “I hope you’re looking out for us,” he whispered. He traced the French word below her name and took that as her answer.

***

When Tonks arrived in the alley behind her flat, she cried harder than she had ever cried in her entire life. She didn’t notice the people who walked by or the open window four stories up where a woman was setting out her clothes to dry. She just cried. For what seemed like hours.

Eventually her tears dried and the fatigue set in. She wiped her tearstained cheeks, out of habit more than anything, and climbed the trellis up to her bedroom window wanting desperately to pass out on her bed and sleep for a year. But when she stepped inside, she could feel the presence of two people insider her apartment, one muggle and one wizard.

Tonks, suddenly infuriated that someone would invade her flat while she was away, yanked open her bedroom door to find her neighbor Emily adding a basket of muffins to a infuriatingly large pile of assorted baked goods and crockpots on her kitchen counters.

“Oh my Gods,” Tonks gasped.

Emily jumped at the announcement and whipped around with her hands up. “Tasha! Jesus you scared me.”

“I— I scared—“ Her anger was bubbling to epic proportions, so much so that she couldn’t get a sentence out. Instead she gave up and just glared at Emily with absolute hatred.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Your friend came along with a key to your flat and these baskets were taking up room in the corridor and I just thought…” Emily was talking a mile a minute and then her eyes took on a softer look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to intrude but I wasn’t sure when you’d be back— wait did you climb the fire escape?”

Her anger was quickly waning and Tonks tried desperately to cling to it, anything so she wouldn’t have to feel the sadness that overwhelmed her these last four days. Fury was so much easier to feel, but looking at Emily’s long blond hair and angelic features, she couldn’t stay mad. Em’s innocent appearance was one of the reasons Tonks chose that disguise when she became an Auror. Her virtuous impression was disarming.

“Yes,” Tonks answered, not bothering to explain that she always entered her flat through the bedroom window. Instead she looked around the rest of the apartment searching for this supposed friend that let themselves into her home. “Who let you in?”

Em’s eyes widened considerably as she smacked her head as if berating herself for being an idiot. “Oh um… total brainfart. I can’t remember his name. He’s just using the toilet. Ginger fellow. Nice.”

Tonks rolled her eyes, her anger returning with welcome relief. She strutted over to the bathroom door and banged her fist on the wood. “Charles Weasley, get your arse out here right now! I told you I wanted to be alone!” Three bashes of her palm later and the fourth one flew a couple inches further and hit solid chest. A hand covered her own before she could pull it away and she glanced up into cloudier blue eyes than she was expecting. The surprise had her eyes stinging, unable to produce the tears she was no longer able to shed. “You’re not Charlie,” she choked out.

“Hey Nymy.”

Nymphadora Tonks crumpled at the nickname and she soon found herself enveloped in Bill’s arms.

***

When Bill Weasley’s feet landed firmly in the Ministry’s designated portkey destination room, his first instinct was to avoid his parents as long as he possibly could. The mixed expression of pure joy at his return home and disappointment that he quit his very prestigious job as a curse breaker in Egypt was far too unbearable for Bill to endure at the moment. 

His second instinct was to find someone who he could commiserate with. The obvious choice was his brother who would intrinsically understand his problems. However, Charlie’s whereabouts were currently unknown to Bill. His little brother’s boyfriend was beyond careful when it came to his and his family’s protection. Bill remembered firsthand how micromanaging Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were when they hired him to de-curse Black Manor. So even if Bill spent the next month searching for Charlie, he’d never find him.

Then there was Charlie’s best friend. Their conversation at the first Order meeting was uniquely eye-opening for Bill. Nymphadora Tonks had always been that annoying little Hufflepuff girl who followed Charlie around, the witch who thought it was fun to change her face, and who Bill found incredibly entertaining to antagonize incessantly. But that day two weeks ago, Bill finally realized that she wasn’t so little anymore… or as annoying. Perhaps she never was.

He knew her flat’s address from that one time he had to sneak Charlie home when he passed out piss-drunk at one of Tonks’s house parties. Assuming she still lived there, Bill thought of the beige-painted hallways and apparated to her floor. He stepped toward her door only to find the carpeted floor surrounding it covered in baskets of sweets and casserole dishes still warm from a stasis charm.

Bill narrowed his eyes and crouched down to inspect one of the notes attached to a plate of brownies.

Dearest Nymphadora,

We were ever so sorry to hear about your parents. Our condolences on their recent passing—

Bill stopped reading immediately, hopping back from the note as if it were a snake about to lash out and poison him. His back bumped into the door across the hall. He was staring down at the various bundles of food which presumably had their own letters of condolence when the door behind him opened and he only just caught himself before falling into Tonks’s neighbor’s flat.

Bill twisted around to come face-to-face with a gorgeous woman about his age with big crystal blue eyes. “Can I help you,” she asked, her hands on her hips in a no-nonsense manner. Bill just barely kept in the derisive snort.

The ginger shook his head. “Sorry miss. I— well I tripped. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Oh—“ The woman’s face changed when she caught the sight of food baskets behind him. Now she crossed her arms. “Those are for my neighbor,” she said accusingly and Bill understood instantly that this woman assumed he was going to knick some of the food for himself. “I think they’re for her, anyway,” she added belatedly, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“You think,” Bill couldn’t help himself asking.

“Well, all the notes say Nymphadora and that’s not her name or at least not what I call her— why am I even explaining this to you?!”

“Nym has always hated her name,” Bill explained, this girl’s critical gaze starting to irk him. Sure, Bill was currently dressed like a homeless man with his long hair pulled back into a disheveled ponytail from his travels, but the disparaging look she was giving him was completely uncalled for in his opinion. He folded his arms back at her. “And I wasn’t going to steal anything if that’s what your glare is insinuating. I didn’t even know about her parents until—“ Bill halted his speech and swallowed away the sadness that welled in his throat. Gods, Tonks must be a mess.

Suddenly the girls’s expression melted with apology. “I’m sorry,” she quickly said. I just— well I’ve been shooing away the homeless for a few days now— not that you look homeless, I just— oh my god, I’m so sorry. Can we just start at the beginning? I’m Emily, Tasha’s neighbor.” Emily held out a hand and waited nervously for Bill to return the favor.

“Bill,” he greeted and when he took her hand in his, he added, “And don’t worry. I know I look homeless. This was just all I had,” he explained, stepping back to show off the worn out coat he was sporting. “Cairo just doesn’t get cold enough to warrant a heavy cloak so I left all my winter clothes at my parents’ house… which I’m avoiding at the mo’. They don’t know I’m back yet.”

Emily smiled politely. “You were in Egypt?”

“Yeah I just— flew in,” Bill answered, using the correct Muggle terminology to explain how he arrived in London. “So Tasha, huh?” Bill remembered a conversation he overhead between Tonks and Charlie when they were younger and Tonks had come to visit the Burrow for one weekend over Summer break. She said she’d wished her name was Natasha, and Charlie claimed it would be weird to call her anything but Tonks at this point. She’d never brought it up again even thought Bill waited for her to do so, just so he could badger her incessantly about it for years and years.

“Nymphadora? I can understand why she’d want to change it,” Emily sympathized. “Although I was kind of hoping that wasn’t Tash’s real name. Since all these condolences are for her.” Emily indicated all the food bundles at Tonks’s door as well as a few dozen behind her on Emily’s dining table. “I’ve been trying to rush them inside as soon as they arrive so the vultures don't get to them before she returns, but the deliverymen must be MI5, I swear. I never hear them come by. It’s as if they appear by magic.”

Emily laughed and Bill laughed with her. Right. Magic? How ludicrous.

Once the laughter died down, Bill had made a decision. “Listen, I have a key. We could just nip these inside her flat and I’ll stick around to wait for her?” Emily agreed and once Bill “unlocked” Tonks’s flat (which mostly consisted of a bit of wandless magic to break down the shit warding around her flat), he and Em spent the next fifteen minutes dragging the nearly two dozen condolence packages into Tonk’s kitchen. When there was only one basket left, Bill left Emily to bring it in while he used the toilet.

And then Tonks arrived. And she banged on the bathroom door demanding his little brother to confront her at once so she could yell at him face to face.

Bill opened the door and felt the sting of her slap against his chest. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She looked deranged and Bill couldn’t believe how wrong he was all these years. Nymphadora Tonks was wild and strong-willed. She had opinions and the ability to weasel her way into any conversation with an unnatural ease. She could build you up or tear you apart with a snap of her fingers. Bill was wrong to think li’l Nymy Tonks was anything but amazing.

He covered her hand in his keeping her palm pressed against his chest. Her eyes cleared, losing the reddish tint the anger induced, the usual hazel bleeding in with every beat of Bill’s heart. “You’re not Charlie.”

Bill didn’t tilt his head with sympathy or pull her into a hug. He simply remained standing, tall and stoic, his voice steady and strong. “Hey Nymy.”

Later Tonks would be embarrassed at the way she collapsed against him, how her body convulsed through tearless heart-wrenching sobs, how he picked her up so easily and carried her into her sitting room, how she clutched at him like he was the anchor holding her to sanity, how she hardly noticed Emily’s departure. Nymphadora Tonks and Bill Weasley barely knew each other, but in that moment strangers would think them lifelong lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years.

Bill was surprised how much he longed for that to be true.

***

Tonks was embarrassed after she settled down and the silence stretched. But she was mostly just incredibly starving.

Tonks disentangled herself from Bill’s arms and grabbed the first dish she could find from the kitchens, bringing it back to the sofa and sitting down beside Bill. When she unwrapped the still warm pasta casserole, Bill silently stood up, grabbed two forks and two bottles of water from the kitchens and settled back down on the couch, wordlessly handing one of the forks over to Tonks. For what it was worth Bill didn’t say a word as he and Tonks dug into the tasty pasta casserole and she was grateful. It was nice to just sit in her silent house but not feel alone. And she scarfed down that pasta like she hadn’t eaten in days… because, well, she hadn’t.

When nearly three-quarters of the dish was gone, Tonks finally looked over at Bill who was scraping another forkful of casserole into his mouth. She watched him for a few minutes, lost in the simple process of eating like it was the most fascinating action in the world. After a while, Bill froze with his fork an inch from his mouth and glanced at Tonks out of the corner of his eyes. Tonks smiled.

“Alright, what’re you doing here,” Tonks asked at long last, twisting her legs under herself and facing the redhead fully, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa. She raised an eyebrow.

Bill dropped the fork back into the dish and leaned back on the couch, spreading his legs wide like he had comfortably lived in her flat his whole life. She was startled to find his relaxed position oddly reassuring rather than grating. He tilted his head in her direction and smirked. “I quit,” he answered.

Tonks sat up straighter and looked down at Bill in shock. “What?”

“I’m moving back to England,” he responded, his voice devoid of any kind of emotion as he continued his explanation. “I couldn’t do it anymore. Be there, when— well when things were happening here.” Bill glanced up quickly and Tonks felt like she had just been punched in the gut. Although he didn’t say a word, she could hear the question. His expression spoke volumes.

“I don’t know,” she answered, her tone tinged in sadness. “He might have killed them, but… I don’t know, Bill.”

Bill didn’t nod in understanding or rest a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. He was just there. It was nice.

“Do you want to know the worst part,” Tonks asked after another long bout of silence. Of course the question was rhetorical and Bill knew that, so Tonks continued without waiting for an answer. “It’s not that they were murdered. It’s not that I can’t investigate it no matter how hard I beg my superiors. It’s not that I had to go to there funeral where their caskets were empty. Or that people they barely knew are sending me food and condolences. That’s all awful, but not the worst part. The worst part is—” Tonks turned to Bill, her throat tightening. “The worst part is they’ll never be able to apologize for what they did. And I can’t forgive them.” Her voice was a mere squeak as she quickly turned away, unable to make eye contact with Bill any longer.

She could feel the redhead snap up at her confession and he crouched down between the couch and the coffee table until their eye-lines were level with each other once more. “What did they do?”

Tonks snorted. “What does it even matter anymore? It just doesn’t matter. And… I think it’s one of the worst feelings someone should have when their parents die. I want to be mad at them… but they’re dead. So my anger is— pointless,” she admitted with a shrug. “I’ve been dreading talking to them again for weeks. And now…“

Tonks let the rest of that sentence die on her lips. She averted her gaze to the window that overlooked London and watched the numerous muggles navigate the pavements, some holding brollies which meant at some time since her return to the flat, it had started raining.

The flat. The flat full of stupid letters from stupid people that didn’t even know her. At one time this place felt like home. She could be herself here, be alone with her thoughts. But then she stayed with Sirius and the boys and Remus… and Snape of all people. Charlie was there and Corey was fantastic. And suddenly being alone no longer felt like home. Even now, the only thing keeping her sane was the fact that Bill Weasley was there.

She turned to the aforementioned redhead who was now sitting on the coffee table. Their eyes met and Tonks grinned again. She had no idea why but just looking at Bill made her happy… or at least less sad.

Bill smiled in return and something just clicked in her mind. She had a plan and that plan was going to happen. No matter what.

“Are you planning on moving back in with your family?”

Bill physically recoiled at the thought. “Uh no. I’ll find my own place, thank you very much.”

Tonks’s smile widened. “Would you help me pack? Then you can have this place.”

Bill blinked and it was the first time Tonks could ever remember Bill looking anything but calm, cool, and collected. He was always very together, comfortable in his own skin, and rarely surprised. Tonks was strangely proud of herself for making this man so flustered.

“Wha— Well, I mean—“ Bill rubbed his head in what seemed now like exasperation and when a giggle slipped from Tonks’s lips, Bill scowled in her direction. “You are so… weird,” he declared, but Tonks took no offense since she could hear the warm affection in his tone. “But Li’l Nymy… where will you go?”

Tonks wrapped her arms around Bill’s neck and rested her head on his shoulder. Into the scratchy material of his truly awful winter coat, she whispered, “Home. I’ll go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- So this one was a bit short, but I decided to move what I wrote for the last part of this chapter, to the start of the next chapter because it works better there.
> 
> Also, I wanted to say thanks for all the birthday wishes. A few of you even pm’d me asking what you could get me for my birthday and that just might be the sweetest thing ever! And hey, I thought of something easy you guys can get me. So if you want to give me a gift, I could really use some song recommendations. I like to listen to music when I write, but my go-tos are getting stale. So if you want to send me some song recommendations in a PM or at the end of your comment, I would greatly appreciate it. Anything that maybe reminds of you of Harry Potter when you listen to it. Love you all. And thanks again.
> 
> Also, this is totally random, but you know how Bill goes to the bathroom in this chapter… well I found out that JK Rowling has an extensive explanation on her website that states that witches and wizards don’t really need to use the bathroom because they can just go anywhere and vanish the evidence. Isn’t that strange? And if that’s the case, than why are bathrooms so readily available and vitally important to the plot of the Harry Potter books? Why do so few wizards use this vanishing technique when they need to urinate or defecate? Even Dumbledore mentions in the first book that one time, he really needed to go to the bathroom, so much so that he stumbled onto the Room of Requirement which became a giant room full of chamber pots. It just seems weird that JK would choose to explain this on her website in such detail when we all know no self-respecting witch or wizard would actually use this implementation. I don’t know. Just something odd I wanted to share with you all.


	23. 1:23- Responsible Draco

“Read ch-ch-chapter twelve in your t-t-textbooks and b-b-be ready for the p-p-practice exam next week.”

Daphne closed her book and stood from the table, nudging her partner Draco with a corner of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.

She and Theo had taken turns since their return to Hogwarts keeping Draco engaged in his studies. She knew Neville and Hermione were doing similarly with Harry. Their friends had taken to long bouts of silence and melancholy daydreaming. Of course, everyone understood. Two members of their family were just murdered and the culprit was still on the loose. Anyone would have ignored their schoolwork in favor of grieving.

But Draco Black and Harry Potter weren’t just anyone. And with the Tonks’s deaths came tremendous responsibilities for the two brothers. 

Draco’s were simple. As the future Lord Black, he was to act the part while at school. Daphne had always found Draco’s attitude since he arrived at Hogwarts to be almost diplomatic in nature with that signature Black family trait that meant he would never kowtow to anyone that didn’t meet his standards of excellence. It had been a wonder to watch. And he had made such progress with Slytherin house in such a short amount of time. The deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Tonks (as Daphne’s parents had explained to her before she left for Hogwarts) would mean Draco would have to act appropriately or lose all the progress he made thus far. Daphne’s job was to help her friend through this and make sure he saved face with the children here at Hogwarts who would most assuredly be relaying the young Black’s actions back to their parents. Thankfully, the antagonistic comments toward Draco about his loss had been so minuscule, they barely registered for Draco. He really had made great strides last semester in cementing his place amongst the student body. Most who greeted Draco when he returned, did so with their deepest condolences.

Harry’s responsibilities were a bit trickier. He had to act similarly to Draco since he was practically a Black himself, but he wasn’t just a future Lord. He was Lord Potter and Andromeda Tonks had been his proxy on the Wizengamot. And as always he had the added pressure of being the boy-who-lived. Everyone looked to see how the great Harry Potter would act after the death of his loved ones. Thankfully, Harry had been dealing with this kind of speculation since he was a baby. He knew how to handle himself. What seemed to be eating at Harry was who he was going to name as his next proxy. Daphne’s parents had been adamant that she allow Harry the space to think about who he would nominate during this first week back at school. “Nothing is more important,” her father told her. Daphne Greengrass nodded in understanding. What did drawing the constellations correctly matter when compared to the problems they all were facing in the real world?

So, while Daphne encouraged her friends to not neglect their schooling, she let the wayward vacant stare through a lesson slip through.

“Come on, Black,” Daphne said, nudging Draco again with the corner of her DADA book. “Class is over.”

Three-quarters of the class had already departed to their dorms to ready themselves for dinner later that night, so no one really noticed Draco’s glazed-over eyes clear as he physically shook himself out of his daydream. He glanced up at Daphne and then at Theo behind her. “What’d I miss?”

“Redcaps, mate,” Theo said as Draco gathered his things and stood up to join them. “Brutal things. Wouldn’t want to cross one.”

“It’s chapter twelve,” Daphne said, tapping the Defense book that she was still carrying. “Do you want to go study for the exam in the library?”

Draco must have noticed the hopeful tone in her voice because he tilted his head in her direction and a slow smile crept on his face. Daphne smiled back. “Sure.”

“Wait, really?” Theo asked, sounding both proud and a little disappointed that Draco’s acceptance meant they would actually have to study.

Draco draped his arms over his friends’ shoulders easily, being taller than them both, and chuckled. “Well I can’t take that number one spot from Harry if I fail an exam, now can I?”

“I’m pretty sure Hermione’s number one,” Theo said and both Daphne and Draco looked over at Theo in shock. Never once had Theo called Hermione by her first name. In fact, Daphne had noticed quite a difference in the way Theo acted around the bushy-haired Gryffindor since they returned to school. She thought perhaps something happened over the holiday with his father, but she never presumed to ask.

Draco laughed. “She probably is, yeah. But I meant number one in Defense. I know Harry’s got that locked in at the moment and I plan on taking it from him.”

“Speaking of Harry…” They had reached the library and Daphne tilted her head toward one of the tables where Harry was hunched over a book, his long unruly black hair acting as a shield to everything that was going on next to him. And next to him was a very unusual scene indeed.

The three Slytherins settled in around a vacant study table and Daphne watched as Draco subtly pulled out his wand and flicked it in Harry’s direction. “Locomotor,” he cast, and a quill beside his brother’s book lifted and flicked Harry in the head.

Harry glanced up, an annoyed expression on his face, as he searched the room for the perpetrator. Draco waited patiently for Harry to find him and gave a small wave when he did. Harry’s annoyance vanished instantly and he gave a small wave back. Draco tilted his head in the direction of Harry’s study companions and raised an eyebrow in question.

Harry didn’t even glance at the scene going on behind him in which Hermione was talking in hushed tones to Ron Weasley, presumedly helping the boy study. Instead he just shrugged as if to say, “I know, but what can you do?”

Daphne looked back and forth between the two boys as they had a silent conversation across the library.

Draco’s eyes widened. “So you’ve forgiven him?”

Harry shrugged again. “Sure.” He nudged his head in Hermione’s direction. “It’s what she wanted.”

Draco chuckled and shook his head mockingly. “I’m surprised it was so easy for you, git.”

Harry flashed a two fingered salute, behind his book. “Prat.”

Draco smirked and motioned for Harry to join them. Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, the latter looking right in her element as she helped the redhead with his homework. Deciding not to interrupt them, he simply stood from the table and rounded the library to join the three Slytherins.

“Hey,” he greeted, setting down his book and sliding into a free chair between Draco and Theo.

“Hey, so what’s happening there,” Theo asked, clearly having not been able to read the two brother’s gestures as well as Daphne.

Harry snorted. “I don’t know, mate. He came over to us after Defense this afternoon and was just… nice. He asked for help and of course Hermione being Hermione… well I think she’s been waiting for him ask for a while now so it wasn’t really a surprise to her. I know he’s been struggling with his classes.”

“Yeah Charlie told us,” Draco confirmed.

“Exactly. And he also told us to lay off of his little brother if that little brother stopped acting like such a prick,” Harry added, sounding like he liked that idea as much as sucking on a lemon. “And so far, he’s been good, so… we’ll see. I wasn’t going to do anything to upset Hermione in any case. She actually seems excited to help him, so who am I to get in the way?”

“You’re Harry Potter,” Draco muttered, earning himself a punch to the arm. “Ow,” Draco said in mock pain.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, what are you guys doing here?”

“Draco decided to study,” Daphne replied delightedly.

“And we are just so happy about his decision,” Theo added sarcastically, flipping open his DADA book in annoyance.

“Nev’s outside in the courtyard enjoying the first sunny day in ages,” Harry explained, adding, “in case you want to join him Theo.”

“See you at dinner,” Theo said, promptly closing his book again and making a hasty retreat.

The three of them laughed as they watched their friend leave, Madame Pince shushing them from behind her desk. They quickly stifled their giggles and leaned in close to each other so they could continue their conversation with hushed voices.

“You know it’s strange though,” Harry whispered. “I actually think Ron helped me make my decision about the Wizengamot.”

“How so,” Daphne asked.

“Well actually, I think it was just that he reminded me how brilliant his little sister Ginny was and how amazing Tonks was with her…”

“So you really think she’ll accept the position,” Draco asked.

Harry sighed, but nodded his head in affirmation. “I can think of no one better for the job.”

***

Dear Sirius,

I know you said I didn’t need to decide before the makeup Wizengamot summit this Saturday about who I want to stand in as Lord Potter’s Proxy, but I think the best choice is Nymphadora Tonks. I’ve thought about this a lot since my return to school and I feel it is best to nominate Tonks. Of course I considered Uncle Steven and Uncle Remus, but Steven is always traveling for his work and we’ve already discussed Remus’s hesitation to be in the spotlight because of his condition. I know he would accept if I asked him directly, but he already does so much for our family and doing him this one small courtesy is the least I could do. However, if Tonks refuses my nomination, please apologize to Remus for me, for he is next in line.

That being said, please try your hardest to make sure Tonks will become my Proxy on the Wizengamot. I know she is having a hard time, as are we all, but I really do feel like she is best for the job. She is smart and charming and I know she will do amazing just like she is amazing in everything else that she does. I’ve written her separately about this nomination, but I wanted you to know as well, Sirius, so that you might help her realize how truly important she is to me and how much I want her to represent me and my issues on the council.

Please keep me informed of what goes on this Saturday. Best of luck.

Love,

Harry Potter

 

Sirius glanced up from his note and across the breakfast table to where Tonks was reading her own letter from Harry. He would do as Harry asked, but feared his attempts would prove futile.

Tonks had been quiet, a word not often used to describe Nymphadora Lee Tonks. Her unexpected return to the house last Sunday had been a welcome surprise, but ever since Draco, Harry, and Snape had returned to Hogwarts and Charlie portkeyed back to Romania, leaving only three in the house, Tonks had retreated inward. She may have been across from Sirius and Remus physically, but mentally, she was a million miles away.

Sirius watched as Tonks folded up the letter carefully, almost robotically, and placed it in the inside coat pocket of her Auror uniform. She finished the last of her breakfast that had been interrupted by the owl’s arrival with barely any emotion, wiped her mouth with her napkin, glanced up at Sirius, and said promptly, “I have to go to work now.”

Sirius wanted so badly to snap her out of this funk, but he knew she needed to work it out for herself. So he just nodded.

When she was gone, Sirius slumped in his seat and thought about how best to fulfill Harry’s wishes. He considered all his options, but in all honesty, the only idea that would work was to just keep on as usual. 

Tonks had always been an independent person. Whatever Harry wrote to her would be enough to convince the young witch. Sirius was sure of that.

He stood from the table which Corey had cleared during his daydream and knew what he had to do to get ready for the council meeting in two day’s time. He went through his morning routine and apparated to Black Manor. He had an elf to see.

***

It was early Saturday morning when Tonks flooed to the Ministry, Harry’s letter still burning a hole in her pocket.

No one had mentioned it the last two days, but Tonks was certain Sirius and Remus knew about Harry’s nomination. The fact that they hadn’t asked if she would be Harry’s Proxy meant she couldn’t refuse the offer. And it was eating away at her. The only place that kept her mind off Harry’s decision was work. So here she was, at work on her day off.

Tonks, in her Auror Bolt persona, shuffled through the almost empty Auror offices and sat down at her desk, shuffling through her cases, which mostly consisted of minor civil disputes, petty thefts, and probation violations. All the paperwork had been completed and there was nothing left to do but turn it in to one of the Head Aurors, Alastor Moody being her superior this week. She’d been stretching it out, because on Monday when she handed in ten reports all at once, Moody had eyed her with some suspicion and refused to hand her another case until Wednesday, claiming she needed to pace herself or this job would consume her.

If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black, Tonks wasn’t sure what was.

The metamorphmagus straightened the papers back up again and looked around the office. She wasn’t distracted enough.

At his desk, pouring over some notes, was Kingsley. He had commented on her first day back in the office last week, that he was upset he hadn’t been put on the Tonks murder case. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, that he had no idea who he was talking to, but no one was more upset that they couldn’t be on that particular case than Natasha Bolt. Tonks had to spend an hour in the restroom alone to calm herself down.

It was all anyone could talk about really, the murder of Edward and Andromeda Tonks, except for the people who were actually on the case. Head Auror Alistor Moody and Frank Longbottom were easily able to keep mum on the whole situation, and the only Junior Aurors on the case, Nate Groanings and Iris Robards, were too happy to be on the case of the century to even think about upsetting their superiors by gabbing to the other Junior Aurors about their investigation.

Tonks sighed, her finger twitching on her desk, making a nervous tap-tap-tap sound as she tried desperately to distract herself from the responsibilities that lay in Harry Potter’s letter that pressed against her chest. She sat up, deciding on one last ditch effort to keep her attention away from her cousin’s words by heading to the evidence locker. If no one was going to tell her about her parents’ case, than she would look into it herself.

After reciting the correct password, she scoured the archives, pulling out a folder marked “TONKS” and settling in to read it. She took a deep breath and opened the report.

“Killing curse… no sign of breaking and entering… clean and quick… wands missing… no sign of torture—“ Tonks paused, pondering over that last statement. A clearing of the throat had her looking up with a guilty expression on her face. It was possibly the most emotion she had conveyed in a long time.

Moody stood with his arms folded, eyeing the documents in her hands. “I don’t even know why I bothered to examine it,” Moody grumbled, his magical eye whirling around to focus back on Tonks. “What other case would you be looking at?”

Tonks went from guilty to defiant in a split second, mirroring her boss by folding her arms and regarding him with a piercing gaze. “Why is it taking so long?”

Moody tilted his head, his mouth pulled in a contemplative grimace. He didn’t answer.

“We know who it was,” Tonks continued when the silence stretched too long. “It was him. You know it. I know it. We know who it was,” she repeated, her voice just on the edge of hysterical. 

This had been a mistake. She should never have done this, come down here, investigated on her own. At the rate she was going now, she was sure to break any second and she had been doing well for so long.

“Do we?”

Tonk blinked at the question. “I— Yes, of course—“

“You read it,” Moody interrupted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see it, Auror Bolt.”

Tonks wanted to refute this, continue on in her anger now that she was there, but Moody was right. There was something that didn’t quite add up. Tonks looked back down at the report in her hands. “No sign of torture,” Tonks read again.

“This was an assassination, girlie. Plain and simple. Whoever did this wasn’t looking for information or revenge. They simply just wanted them dead,” Moody explained. “Now I don’t know about you, but he doesn’t seem like the simple execution type.”

Tonks stopped breathing. He was right. There was still a chance that this was Voldemort, but it didn’t fit his MO. And that meant there was someone else out their who wanted her parents dead.

The documents became heavy in her hands and slipped through her grip, landing in a heap at her feet. She brought a palm to her mouth, suddenly feeling like she might be sick.

Moody had summoned the report to himself, his magic spell reorganizing the papers. He stepped up beside Tonks and put the case file back into the cabinet, shutting the door behind her.

Tonks finally sucked in a breath and when she exhaled it came out as a deranged sort of laugh. She was losing it. She never once considered anyone else could be the murderer. It had been Voldemort since the second she heard the news. Who else could it possibly be?

A clunky unsure hand came down on her shoulder and despite how completely lacking in comfort Moody was, Tonks was grateful for the attempt which had effectively pulled her out of her hysteria.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, her eyes welling up with tears after two weeks without a single drop spilled. “I can’t do this Moody. It’s too hard to come in here every day and pretend like this case isn’t personal to me. I need to be put on this case or…” Tonks gulped. “I quit.”

Moody’s hand squeezed her shoulder as if to say he understood. His face settled into view. “I accept your resignation.”

Tonks crumpled at his words, whether in anguish or relief, she really didn’t know. And despite how uncomfortable she knew Moody was, he stood by her side with his palm still resting on her shoulder until she stopped crying and was able to stand up straight again.

Tonks snuffled her nose and wiped her eyes knowing she looked a right mess. Somewhere down the line, she had reverted back to her Nymphadora Tonks appearance. She took a deep breath and nodded her head at Moody in thanks before stepping around him and heading for the door.

“Oh and Miss Tonks,” Moody called out after her. Tonks paused and twisted around toward her former boss.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

She knew what he meant. Whoever targeted her parents might be after her next. Moody was able to keep her safe while she was here disguised as Natasha Bolt, but he couldn’t do so out there.

She nodded her head. “Constant vigilance, sir.”

Moody quirked a smile and nodded back. And then Tonks turned around and left. It was time to face her responsibilities head on. And if this assassin dared to try his hand at her or anyone else she cared about, they best watch their back.

***

Bill was buttoning up his nicest dress shirt when Tonks climbed through his bedroom window.

“You can’t just climb through the window, Nymy. This isn’t your flat anymore. I mean,” Bill bantered, spinning around to face the purple-haired girl, “what if I was in the middle of getting dressed?”

Tonks straightened herself and eyed Bill contemplatively. “Weren’t you?”

Bill grinned. “Yes I was.”

Tonks chuckled. “Why do you look so good anyway?”

“Well first off, thank you,” Bill said, returning to the mirror and straightening his collar. “And the reason is because I have an interview. Why are you crawling through my window at nine in the morning?”

Tonks flopped onto his bed carelessly, as if it were still her own. “I quit.”

Bill stopped fiddling with his cufflinks and glanced down at Tonks who had curled up in his quilt. “Oh. Are you alright?”

Tonks unburied her face and stared up at him with lime green eyes. “I don’t know.”

Bill nodded sympathetically before returning to his wardrobe and rummaging through the clothes he hadn’t quite unpacked yet, searching for a tie. “So you just came here to tell me that you quit?”

There was a long pause as Bill found a couple ties he found suitable. Then Tonks muttered, “Yeah I suppose. I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to tell you first, like prep before the others. You know like the way you did with me.”

Bill turned around and smiled. “Sounds good.”

Tonks smiled too and sat up eyeing the two different ties in each of his hands. Bill waited with an inquiring smile. Finally Tonks stood up and grabbed the dark blue and gold striped tie from his left hand and looped it around his neck. “How did that conversation go with your parents anyway?”

Bill lifted his chin so that Tonks would have better access to his collar and sighed. “Fine. It went fine. Until they asked what I was planning to do next. I think they expected me to go back to work for the bank.” Tonks scowled at the thought and Bill laughed. “Exactly. I came back to… well to join the Order. Let’s just say they weren’t too happy about that idea.”

Tonks slipped the tie through the last loop and pulled it tight until it rested perfectly straight down the center of his chest. “There,” she said, patting the tie in self-congratulations. “They’d have to be mad not to hire you.”

Bill chuckled, beaming at the compliment. “Aye, well I’m sure you’ll find out tonight.” Tonks stepped back and eyed him curiously. “My interview is with Remus,” Bill explained.

“Oh. Wow,” she marveled. “I have really been out of it, haven’t I? I had no idea.” Tonks shook her head as if she were disgusted with herself. “What is he hiring you for?”

“Well, technically I’d be working for Lord Black as his steward,” Bill said. “But… well I think that mostly means I’ll be trying to find a way to destroy Horcruxes.”

“That’s great,” Tonks exclaimed.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“I’ll have to visit the Black Manor sometime, see how it’s going.”

Bill smiled. “Well with all your free time…”

Tonks laughed. “Oh I’m not going to have that much free time. I guess I forgot to mention that Harry asked me to be his proxy on the Wizengamot.”

“Now that is great,” Bill said simply, meaning every word.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it will be,” Tonks said, a hint of that patented Tonks conviction that had been missing from their earlier conversation. “I wasn’t going to accept, but… I found something out this morning that changed my mind.”

Bill wasn’t going to ask what that something was, because he knew she was being purposefully vague for a reason. He was just strangely happy to see Tonks look so determined about the future.

“Well that’s great,” Bill repeated.

“You said that already.”

“I ran out of more descriptive words.”

Tonks widened her grin, and as if her smile was magnetic, Bill couldn’t help but lean in a bit. They stayed like that for he didn’t know how long, with Tonks smiling and Bill wanting desperately to lean in just that last little bit more.

But he didn’t. And he wasn’t sure why.

Finally Tonks cleared her throat self-consciously and took a step back toward the window. “Well good luck then. I should probably be going. The council meeting starts in half an hour and I haven’t even told Sirius that I’ve accepted, so…”

“Yeah,” Bill said, snapping out of whatever trance that smile had put him under, now that he had room to breathe. “Well good luck to you too.”

“Thanks,” Tonks said, taking another step toward the window and throwing a wave over her shoulder.

“Oh, and Nymy?” 

Tonks stopped and spun around to face Bill again. “Yeah?”

“I was just joking about the window. You can use it whenever you want.”

A smile slowly crept up on Tonks’s face and Bill fell once again under it’s spell. “Okay,” Tonks chirped. “Then maybe I will.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay then. Bye Bill.”

Bill smiled. “Bye Nymy.”

***

Sirius paced.

He’s been pacing a lot lately. Things were heavy and warranted some pacing. So he paced.

This time, however, he was pacing in public, right in front of the doors to the Wizengamot chamber. The summit started in twenty minutes and Tonks wasn’t there yet.

It wasn’t that he was worried she hadn’t accepted Harry’s nomination… okay, so maybe he was. He worried constantly about Tonks. He worried constantly about everyone. It was getting bad, and he knew it. 

He couldn’t imagine going through this without Moony. No matter how much nervous energy Sirius built up, Moony was always there to quell it before it reached it’s peak. Moony had a calming presence about him and focused on problems logically. Sirius would have crashed a burned by now if his Moony wasn’t there every night to listen and plan accordingly.

What was he going to do if Tonks didn’t show up? His worst nightmare was to disappoint his children and this would disappoint Harry immensely. She had to show up. She just had to.

And then she did.

Nymphadora Tonks looked formidable. Her appearance reminded Sirius so much of his first Wizengamot. She was dressed in a perfectly tailored black coat with a tail that draped down to her ankles. She wore tight charcoal gray trousers tucked into brown leather motorcycle boots and her hair was cut into a short spiky pixie in an outlandish shade of purple. She looked perfect.

Tonks stepped up to Sirius, an apologetic smile on her face. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sirius said. “You’re here.”

“Yeah but I’ve… but I’ve been—“

Sirius held up a hand, halting her speech before it could begin. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Tonks swallowed and nodded her head once, standing up straight and taking a deep breath. “Are we ready to do this then?”

“Not quite,” Sirius said, before reaching into the pocket of his cloak and pulling out a pin. “This is for you.” He held out the pin and Tonks took it gingerly.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“I had Tilly make you a pin.”

“But I thought I’d use Mum’s…”

“You can,” Sirius admitted, “but… well, this one’s different. See here,” Sirius said, pointing at the middle of the pin. 

“It’s a… dragon.”

“Yes. See, you may be a Tonks by name and a Black by blood and a Potter by proxy… and that’s all incorporated in this pin just like your mother’s. But you’re also a member of the Order. And I thought your pin should represent that.”

Without hesitation, Tonks slipped the pin on the lapel of her jacket. She took a deep breath and smiled her thanks at her cousin. Sirius grinned back.

“Okay,” Tonks said, standing even taller that before. “Now are we ready?”

“I have never been more ready.”

Tonks chuckled. “Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Merry Christmas! Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. Star Wars happened. But I wanted to get this chapter out for you guys as my Christmas present to all you wonderful readers. As always, let me know what you thought. That could be your gift to me. ;-)


	24. 1:24- Know Draco

“Careful.”

“Oh really, Grayson? I thought I’d just carelessly drop this caldron filled to the brim with draught of living death. That sounds smart.”

Grayson eyed the redhead in front of him with a hint of amusement, as Bill Weasley slowly lowered the caldron into the middle of the grove just East of Black Manor.

“I mean, really,” Bill continued as he lowered his wand the rest of the way and the caldron landed safely in the grass. “Do you think I’m a complete knob?”

“I think you have a locket carrying a piece of a madman’s soul around your neck,” Grayson replied calmly.

Bill looked down at where Slytherin’s locket lay pressed up against his chest. “Right,” he said, gently extracting the chain from around his neck and dropping it on the ground by his feet.

“Better?”

Bill looked up and smirked. “Slightly.”

“Alright, so do you think this will work,” Grayson asked, tilting his head toward the caldron.

“The theory is sound, but…”

Grayson nodded. “Best not to get our hopes up.”

“No it’s not— well actually it is that,” Bill admitted. “But also… well, all the texts say that the horcrux would try to fight back if it sensed it was in danger.”

“I know,” Grayson said. And he did know for he’d read the texts as well. 

Almost three months previously, the two men had been tasked by Sirius and Remus to discover a way to destroy Voldemort’s horcruxes. Grayson and Bill had spent the first six weeks throwing practically every spell under the sun at the locket. Between the two of them they reached nearly a thousand trials, but nothing worked. Grayson was sure their was a spell that would render a horcrux’s receptacle useless, but whatever that spell was, the two of them either didn’t know it or weren’t strong enough to break through the Locket’s magic.

Next they moved onto potions. They gave a list of potions to try out to Sirius and Remus who set out in search of the most toxic and powerful concoctions they could find. Every other day, they would tick one of the potions off their list, growing more frustrated with their continued lack of success and constant proximity to Slytherin’s Locket. Having taken the longest to procure, their list was now down to one: Draught of Living Death.

“Well we have to at least give it a go,” Grayson acknowledged.

“And when it doesn’t work, we’ll move on to harder to obtain forms of magic,” Bill said with a sigh, as he lifted the locket and tossed it into the black cast-iron caldron. 

The only noise they heard was a clank as the locket hit the bottom of the pot. Grayson grimaced and pulled out the notebook he’d been using to document their trials, writing, “No effect, locket still fully intact, no sign that it could have worked,” under “Draught of Living Death”.

Grayson snapped the notebook shut and smiled sadly at Bill. “Well I guess just because a piece of soul is trapped inside the locket, doesn’t mean it’s alive.”

Bill ran a frustrated hand through his long red hair. “Or maybe the potion wasn’t strong enough.”

Grayson glanced around and spotted a rose bush. He severed a flower from it’s stem with his wand and brought it to the caldron. The millisecond the petals hit the concoction, it was gone, disintegrated beyond words.

“Or maybe it was,” Bill said eyeing the caldron warily. “I don’t even want to be near that anymore,” he added, taking a step away as if the draught of living death would leap from the caldron and attack him. It was ridiculous really since the potion only worked on humans if they ingested it.

Grayson sighed as he picked up the metal hook they brought along to extract the locket. “Whoever brewed that particular batch of living death must be something else. I’ve never seen a strain so powerful.”

Grayson strode over to Bill, the locket still dangling from the hook in front of him. Bill huffed in agreement and flopped down onto the grass looking completely exhausted. Grayson felt his own eyes droop and he joined his partner on the grove floor, the locket landing between them. They both looked dejected.

They sat like that for some time, both letting their minds rest and wander until finally Bill spoke up. “So, dragon fire’s next, yeah?”

“Yup,” Grayson agreed. “And that will have to be all you, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright,” Bill said, waving him off nonchalantly. “It’s probably best you don’t come with us to the Romanian reserve next week anyway. There’s already too many of us. We’re bound to make a splash with our presence.”

“Lord Black alongside his advisor, his steward, and his cousin who just so happens to be Lord Potter’s Proxy,” Grayson mused. “Yes I do suppose your travel plans to a dragon reserve might raise some heads.”

Bill laughed. “Actually it might not look all that strange which is frankly what we are hoping for. We’re counting on most thinking we are just visiting Charlie.”

Grayson smiled. “How long do you think you might be away?”

“Well it depends how long it takes Charlie and I to get our hands on some bottled dragon fire and how long it takes the rest to get the answers they want from the druids.”

“Good luck.”  
“Thanks. What will you be doing then?”

“Wife’s parents are in town to visit their granddaughter. Naomi wants me to be by her side until they leave,” Grayson said, chuckling.

“In town from where?”

“New Zealand,” Grayson answered. “They moved there during the war. Don’t like me much. They wanted Naomi to leave with them.”

“Yeah sometimes I wonder if it was smart to move back,” Bill said.

Grayson eyed the redhead speculatively. “No you don’t.”

Bill glanced up from where he was picking at the grass by his thighs and grinned. “No I don’t,” Bill agreed.

They lapsed into contemplative silence. Grayson eyed the locket.

“Tom Riddle’s a bit of a prick, isn’t he?”

Bill chuckled. “Yup.”

“To actually split your soul is bad enough, but to put that piece of soul into a priceless artifact like this? I mean, what a fucking prick.”

“And now we have to destroy it,” Bill commiserated. “And if Sirius and Remus are right, the Hufflepuff cup has a part of his soul as well.”

“And I can’t imagine what he took of Rowena’s to use,” Grayson added. “I just wish there was a way to extract the soul from the artifact so that we don’t have to destroy it.”

Bill nodded in understanding. “I bet this was what he was hoping for when he used the founders things though. No one would want to destroy them and he could live forever.”

“Do you think there is a way to do it though? To save the relics?” Grayson looked up at Bill hopefully.

“Sure,” Bill said shrugging with a forced casualness that Grayson was used to by now. It meant there was a ‘but’ soon to come. “But” —and there it was— “only if Voldemort does it himself.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the creator of the horcrux can destroy the horcrux without damaging the receptacle. I read it.”

“In one of the dark arts books?”

Bill shook his head. “No. I read it in a fable.” Bill looked up. Grayson waved him to continue his explanation. “Alright,” Bill sighed. “Well the story goes that an ancient sorcerer, before Merlin, before anyone even called us wizards, found a way to live forever. He was showing his wife the process of splitting his soul by killing one of their servants and placing that piece of his soul into a vase. Unfortunately, the wife loved the servant. They were having an affair. So when the sorcerer severed the man’s throat, the wife screamed and threw herself at the sorcerer. Startled, the sorcerer wasn’t able to complete the process and rather than his soul ending up in the vase, it found the nearest living receptacle. His wife. The sorcerer was clearly distraught by the news of his wife’s affair and decided to end her as well. With all his grief he summoned his magic and forced it at the wife. There was a flash of green and it struck the woman in the heart. She fell and he thought she died. He went on a rampage, killing everyone in the house with that flash of green before ending himself. But the wife didn’t die. The sorcerer only destroyed the piece of him that lay within her. And when she awoke she awoke to a house full of dead bodies with no idea why.”

Bill let the story end there and the two men contemplated the fable for a long while.

“So,” Grayson finally uttered, breaking the silence, “let’s say we just line these up in front of old Tom and hope he throws a killing curse at them?”

Bill laughed, long and loud. “Hey if the dragon fire doesn’t work, we might have to.”

Grayson joined Bill and they laughed at the absurdity of that idea.

Bill looked up at the sun and asked between bursts of laughter, “What time is it?”

Grayson removed his pocket watch. “Nearly half four. Why?”

“I’m having dinner with Tonks and then Remus is stopping by my flat to run through our traveling schedule,” Bill explained.

“You and Tonks sure are doing well—”  
“We’re not dating,” Bill interrupted quickly. The statement sobered the two men up letting the quiet of the early evening settle around them.

Grayson tilted his head and considered the man in front of him. “You aren’t? Can I ask why not?”

Bill opened his mouth to explain, but no words came out. Finally, the young wizard’s protests died on his lips and he shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“But you do fancy her?”

“I—“ Bill sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. “Maybe?”

“Maybe. Alright,” Grayson said nodding as he contemplated the man’s answer. Bill Weasley meant ‘Yes.’ Grayson knew it. So what was the problem? Grayson glanced up again, narrowing his eyes like he did with his little girls when they tried lying to them. “Are you worried?”

“Why would I be worried,” Bill asked.

“So you are,” Grayson decided. “You’re worried because she’s your friend and she’s your brother’s best friend and, basically, your boss’s sister. She’s going to be a part of your life, probably forever. And your worried it’s going to be awkward if things don’t work out.”

Bill narrowed his eyes back, but didn’t refute Grayson’s statement.

“I get it.”

“Oh yeah,” Bill asked, sounding a little more himself, more confident and sarcastic. “Was Naomi your little brother’s best friend of ten years?”

Grayson slowly smiled. “No. She was dating my best friend.”

“Oh wow,” Bill said. “I guess you don’t speak to that bloke anymore.”

Grayson froze where he sat, like an icy hand was gripping his heart. “No,” Grayson agreed, his voice slightly haunting even to his own ears. “I definitely don’t speak to him anymore.”

“Well now I have to know the story. Who was this bloke, then? Give me the details,” Bill urged humorously.

“It’s getting late,” Grayson said, hoping he sounded naturally concerned about the time. “And you have that date… with…” Bill was eyeing Grayson with immense speculation now. “…Tonks…”

“I’ve got time Gray. Tell me the story,” Bill pressed, all traces of humor gone.

Grayson let the silence stretch before finally sighing. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because his name was Antonin Dolohov.”

***Seventeen Years Earlier***

Ant had been living with the Greengrasses for nearly eight months. Because his grades were so exceptional at Durmstrang, he was eligible for the partner program in which students from Durmstrang, Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, and Beauxbatons with the highest NEWT scores could experience an eighth year at a different school. Lord Keith Greengrass, Grayson’s uncle, had been a sponsor for the program for the last fifteen years. Keith had housed, clothed, and fed four students in that time, two from Ilvermorny, one from Beauxbatons, and this year, Antonin Dolohov, from Durmstrang.

Grayson didn’t think much of the other exchange students, possibly because they were so much older than he was when they took up residence in Greengrass Manor. Ant was different. When he arrived, Grayson and him became fast friends. They had so much in common and so much to learn from each other. Grayson was certain Antonin would have been sorted into Ravenclaw if he had gone to Hogwarts.

The school year of 1976-1977, while Grayson narrowed down his career options, taking internships for a month at a time to test the waters in numerous fields, Antonin took Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration at Hogwarts with the seventh year students. He would come home at night and tell Keith and Grayson what he had learned, every day his grasp on the English language growing stronger. One night in November, Antonin announced that he asked out a girl, Naomi Midgeon. Grayson remembered the name, a Slytherin Girl the year below him. After that, Keith and Grayson would ask about Antonin’s life in general, rather than just his schooling.

There were days when Ant would leave for school early and come back to the Manor late. Some weekends, Antonin would spend the day exploring London on his own. Grayson thought nothing of it. Sometimes he would do the same. They were adults now and being at home every night seemed like a massive waste of time. He should have known there was more to Ant’s absences, but Uncle Keith never made a fuss over them, so Grayson let his trust in his uncle and new best mate cloud his judgement.

One Friday night in April, Grayson heard a knock on his bedroom door. It had been a long day at the bank and he was exhausted. It was clear his internship at Gringotts would not lead to a lifelong career.

Grayson, too lazy to leave his bed, bookmarked the novel he was reading and called out, “Come in.”

Antonin pushed open the door and bounded into the room, flopping down on his bed. He was still in his school robes which were caked in dirt, and his shoes tracked mud on the floor. “Antonin,” Grayson scolded, rising from the bed quickly and pulling out his wand. “For Merlin’s sake, I’m too tired for this right now.”

Ant’s delighted manner quickly deflated and he jumped off the bed, mumbling his apologies. He helped Grayson clean up the mess. “Sorry, I just— you know vhat, I will tell you in the morning.”

“Okay,” Grayson said, his eyes drooping a little. “Wait! Isn’t it a Hogsmeade day?”

Antonin grinned again, his excitement back at the prospect of being with Naomi outside of Hogwarts for the day. “Right. Will you meet us?”

“Sure mate. I’ll be at the Three Broomstick at noon.”

“Very good. Sorry again about the mess,” Antonin said and Grayson waved off his apologies.

“Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep.”

“You too Grayson. Good night.”

“Good night.”

The next morning, Grayson readied for the day and headed to Hogsmeade. Antonin had most likely met Naomi at ten o’clock so they could spend the whole day in Hogsmeade together. When he arrived at the Three Broomstick via the floo network, he searched the room for Ant and Naomi, but they hadn’t arrived yet. Instead he headed to the bar, where a familiar face was standing behind it laughing at something a patron was saying.

“A Rose by any other name…” Grayson quoted as he took a seat at the bar.

“Excuse me Severus,” Rosmerta said to the patron, before heading over to Grayson with an unimpressed look. “I’m not a flower Grayson.”

“It’s a quote from—“

“Shakespeare. Yes, I know.”

Grayson smiled. “One of the better muggles, don’t you think?”

“Why of course,” Rosie said, her words full of sarcasm. “Shakespeare and King Arthur. The rest are rubbish.”

Grayson narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t mean—“

“Yes you did,” Rosmerta interrupted. “Maybe you should try their world out for a bit. It might help stifle your prejudice.”

“Well none of the magical career choices are doing anything for me. Maybe I’ll look into being a dentist.”

Rosmerta actually smiled at this and Grayson sighed in relief. They had always disagreed about muggles and their world ever since they first met on the train to Hogwarts. Rosie may be a pureblood, but the Ogdens were known muggle lovers. Not only did they sell and distribute the finest alcohol in wizard England, but they also managed to break into the muggle markets as well. Grayson had never seen the appeal of the non-magical world, but never truly despised it. He mostly said what he did just to have an excuse to talk to Rosmerta Ogden.

“What do you want Grayson?”

“Butterbeer, please.” As Rosie reached behind the counted for a glass mug, Grayson asked, “So how’s the metal-charming license going?”

“Slow. That’s why I tend bar now because revising for the subject is like pulling teeth,” Rosie admitted. “Perhaps your future career as a dentist will help me score some drugs to numb the pain.” Grayson just stared at her in confusion, having no idea what she was talking about. He actually had no idea what a Dentist did. “Never mind,” Rosie said, rolling her eyes as she set down Grayson’s frothy mug of butterbeer on the counter between them. “Metal-charming is boring.”

“That’s a very un-Ravenclaw thing to say. Shame on you,” Grayson scolded lightheartedly.

“Don’t you think working at Gringott’s is boring,” Rosmerta asked.

Grayson glanced up at her from under his eyelashes as he sipped at his butterbeer. “I’d never admit that aloud though. It goes against my beliefs.”

Rosie snorted. “Yeah okay. Well do you need anything else?”

Grayson looked behind him and noticed Antonin making his way into the tavern. “Nope I’m good.”

His friend spotted him at the bar and made his way over. He seemed distraught. “Hey,” Antonin greeted, rather despondently.

“Hey,” Grayson greeted back. “Where’s Naomi?”

“I broke it off.”

Grayson blinked. “What do you mean? I thought you guys were doing alright?” Antonin had an air about him as if he very much wished that he was elsewhere. “Hey,” Grayson said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I wish to speak alone,” Ant stated, pointedly looking at Rosmerta and the other patrons in the Three Broomsticks.

“Sure,” Grayson said, setting his butterbeer back on the bar and nodding his head at Rosmerta, who understood that she could put it on his tab. “Come on, mate.”

They exited the tavern and Grayson lead Antonin to a group of trees just outside of the village, stopping in a patch of dry grass in the late April sun. “What’s going on?”

“She did not take news well,” Antonin admitted, with a hint of dry humor behind his words.

“What news? Is this what you were wanting to tell me last night?”

“Yes. She did not understand why I must go.”

Grayson started at this announcement. “Go? Where are you going? Your schooling doesn’t finish until June.”

“I am part of something bigger now. He has called on me.”

Grayson felt the blood in his veins run cold. “What are you talking about?”

Slowly a smile crept up on Antonin’s face and he looked far more prideful than Grayson had ever seen him. “I kept it from you. I am sorry, my friend, but I must’ve. He had to be sure of my loyalties.”

“Who?” Grayson knew his voice sounded tiny and helpless in that one-word question, most-likely because he wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear the answer.

Ant’s smile grew wide, almost savage, as he bunched up the sleeve of his robe to reveal—

“No,” Grayson gasped.

Antonin’s grin vanished in a millisecond. “You, as well? Vhat is wrong with you all? Can’t you see how incredible this is?”

Grayson could only stare in absolute horror at the mark on his friend’s forearm. “You joined Him,” Grayson whispered. It wasn’t really a question. The answer was already in plain view.

“He appreciates my intelligence,” Antonin snapped.

This statement brought Grayson back to the present. “What?”

“He has seen my abilities and knows I’ll be an asset to his cause—“

“His cause? He tortures people—”

“Muggles and blood-traitors. That is all.”

Grayson felt physically ill. “Antonin—“

“You don’t like the muggles either. You have said this.” Antonin was clearly very angry now, angry and confused by Grayson’s unwillingness to understand. And suddenly, Grayson realized it was no use. There was no way to change Ant’s mind. He couldn’t be reasoned with.

Grayson didn’t realize he was shaking his head until Antonin scoffed. “I fear for you my friend.”

Grayson’s first reaction was to shout, “Never call me a friend again!” He didn’t of course, but he privately marveled at how quickly his feelings could change for a person. This was his best mate standing in front of him. But he wasn’t, really. Not anymore. Apparently Grayson had never really known Antonin Dolohov. And the man would go down in Grayson’s history as the greatest liar to ever live.

“You fear for me?” Grayson shook his head at the absurdity of it all.

“I thought you would join me,” Antonin admitted, clearly still not quite believing that Grayson wasn’t even considering it.

I’m not considering it… Right?

“Your passivity will lead to your death,” Antonin said.

“Are you threatening me,” Grayson wondered aloud.

“Never, my friend.”

Grayson nodded his head almost as if he were thanking this Death Eater for sparing his life. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet that this wasn’t all just some terrible nightmare that Grayson would wake up from. Everything he was doing and saying was lead by pure incredulous instinct.

“You’ll see in time, Grayson, that the choice is clear. The Dark Lord will win.”

The Dark Lord. My best mate just called Voldemort, “The Dark Lord.”

“Okay,” Grayson uttered, because he didn’t have much more to say. He had no words left.

“Goodbye then Grayson.”

Grayson simply nodded in return.

And then Antonin was gone.

Grayson wasn’t sure how long he stood there staring at the empty place where Antonin once stood, but when next he blinked, his feet began moving in the direction of the school, not stopping until he was marching through Hogwarts toward the library searching the tables and bookshelves for a familiar blonde head of hair.

He took the rows of dusty old bookcases one at a time, worrying with every empty corner he came across, that she might not even be here, that she might be in her dorm. Grayson was contemplating how best to infiltrate Slytherin house when he spotted her.

“Naomi,” he breathed out in relief. Her name was the first word he’d uttered in nearly four hours.

Her head snapped up from the book in her lap, the whites of her eyes clearly red from crying. “What are you doing here,” Naomi asked, a tremble in her voice as if she were terrified. ‘

Grayson realized she might be scared of him, so he raised his empty hands to show he was unarmed and took a careful step toward the 7th-year Slytherin. Naomi remained completely still, but didn’t retreat. Grayson took that as a good sign. When he was nearly a meter away, he knelt down to eye level, and reached toward his pocket. Naomi eyed the movement warily, but Grayson was sure to be steady and deliberate as he slowly removed a coin from his robes and held it out to her.

Naomi blinked in surprise at the item in his hand. “I don’t— I don’t want your money—“

“Please take it,” Grayson urged. “And if he comes back, if he comes near you, if you even see a man who looks like him from a kilometer away, you squeeze this. Okay? You squeeze this and think about where you are. And I will find you.” Grayson brought his open palm just a little closer and uttered a broken, “Please.”

Naomi snatched the galleon form his hand quicker than a snake attacking it’s pray. And when he looked back up at her face, she was smiling. “I hoped that you wouldn’t join him. I didn’t know if that would be the case, but I hoped.”

Grayson couldn’t help but smile back, even though it had been such a dismal day. “I’m sorry,” Grayson said, and he meant it. He was extremely sorry that this beautiful girl had to ever fear a man she loved.

“How does the coin work?”

Grayson pulled out another coin. “They’re telepathic and connected to each other. My uncle and I have been developing them. If you squeeze one and think a message than the other starts burning and relays the message. It has to be a short message though. Like a date and time. We thought it would be useful for office workplaces. For impromptu meetings and such. We’re seeing about having the process published.”

Naomi nodded and held the coin closer to her chest. Green eyes looked up at Grayson. “What do I do now,” she asked.

Grayson leaned back on his haunches and ran a sheepish hand through his blonde hair, mussing it up more than usual. “I don’t know. Study for your NEWTs.”

Naomi huffed at the suggestion and folded her arms. “You’re not very funny.”

“I’m hilarious.”

“At best, you are mildly amusing,” Naomi argued.

Grayson smiled. “I’ll take it.”

Naomi smiled back. “Do you have to go?”

Grayson pondered that for a few seconds. “Actually, I thought I’d just sit here a few more minutes before I have to return home for supper. Is that okay?”

Naomi nodded and Grayson settled down beside her, letting the quiet wash over them as Naomi returned her attention to the book in her lap. After a half hour, Grayson stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his slacks. Naomi closed her book and stood up to join him.

“What are you going to tell your uncle?”

“The truth,” Grayson supposed. “He can always tell when I’m lying anyway.”

Naomi smiled. “Goodbye Grayson.”

“Goodbye Naomi.”

When he crossed the anti-apparition wards around the school and apparated to his doorstep, he could already smell dinner cooking in the kitchens. He entered the house and took a seat next to his uncle at the dining table just as the food appeared on the empty plate in front of him. Grayson felt as if he were on auto-pilot.

“Where’s Antonin,” Uncle Keith asked around a forkful of stew.

Grayson looked up from his own plate and his blue eyes focused to find the same blue in his uncle’s. “He’s not coming.”

“Oh?” Keith looked unbothered by this announcement, as if he’d known this bit of information before asking the question. “Will he be back next weekend—“

“He’s gone Uncle,” Grayson snapped, hastily reigning in his frustration, for his Uncle didn’t deserve his ire.

For what it was worth, Keith didn’t even flinch at the interruption. His uncle tilted his head fractionally. “Alright.”

Grayson stared at his guardian as if he had suddenly sprouted large pink wings. “He’s not coming back Uncle,” Grayson continued hoping this would spark some surprise in his uncle. “He’s— He’s—”

He couldn’t even finish that thought, couldn’t say the words aloud. A Death Eater. Why would anyone ever want to be called that? Grayson glanced down at his unblemished left forearm. To mar the skin with such an ugly sigil. Why would anyone want to do that?

Grayson was angry. Angry that he ever considered Antonin Dolohov a friend. Angry that he ever sat across from him at the dining room table. Angry that his Uncle conversed with the wizard about his schooling. Angry that they took an interest in Antonin’s life. Angry that he still cared. Angry. So very, very angry.

“That’s too bad,” Keith stated, shocking Grayson out of his state.

“What?”

Keith looked up from his plate and smiled sadly at his nephew. “I always knew there was a chance, but… he was so very smart, wasn’t he?” Grayson gaped at his uncle, at how calm the man was after openly admitting that he had invited a potential Death Eater who quickly became a confirmed Death Eater into his house. “I just think it’s sad.”

“He said that he was joining the winning side,” Grayson uttered, wondering how it was they were even having this conversation when just the night previous, Grayson had simply made a promise to his best mate that he would visit Hogsmeade in the morning.

“Do you think the same?” Keith’s eyes were old and weary and they bored holes into Grayon’s face, waiting for an answer. Those blue eyes seemed wise beyond their years, but then again, his uncle had always been wise.

“I think in a war, all sides are losing.”

Keith grunted, whether in agreement or disappointment at Grayson’s answer, he wasn’t sure. But Grayson didn’t press for a more comprehensive reaction to his statement. Instead the two men went back to eating their respective meals in silence. They hardly spoke of Antonin after that night.

It was as if he had died.

***Present***

“A year later, my uncle was in St. Mungo’s. He was diagnosed with vanishing disease. Naomi was doing a story about the recently built hospital wing as part of her new job at the Quibbler. I asked her out for a cuppa. She told me that she was to leave after this last story to New Zealand with her parents… but it only took us three days to fall in love. And I asked her to stay. I really don’t blame her parents for hating me, but I’m glad she said yes. We never saw Antonin again except in the papers a few months after Naomi gave birth to Daphne. They said he went to Azkaban for murdering your uncles.”

The silence stretched as Grayson let Bill ponder his story. He picked at the grass between his legs, snapping a blade and wrapping it around his ring finger. He kept his wedding ring at home when he and Bill tested the Horcruxes, both of them deciding to only bring one pocket watch between them in case the soul should jump into another item when the locket is destroyed. His finger always felt empty without his wedding ring though.

“Grayson,” Bill spoke up, garnering the attention of Grayson immediately. “Can I ask you something?”

Grayson nodded.

“Well. Okay, so please don’t take this the wrong way— and you really don’t even have to answer. I’m just curious…” Bill’s blue eyes were wide and welcoming when he asked, “Why didn’t you join him?”

Grayson knew he had all the makings of a pureblood elitist and potential death eater. In his youth he was very vocal about his dislike of muggle culture, thinking them beneath them. He married a Slytherin with a career in the media and to the outside world the Greengrasses might very much look like the perfect pureblood family. He could have easily joined Voldemort’s ranks. Grayson was drawn to power as many others are and Voldemort certainly was powerful. And perhaps in another life, he would have leaned toward that side for fear for his family in a war that seemed to be going Voldemort’s way. But now he wouldn’t dream of it. Not even if Tom Riddle appeared on his doorstep and threatened the lives of his wife and children.

He could probably answer Bill’s question this way, but thought better of it. Instead he began, “I lived with my uncle… because when I was two, my parents were murdered. My uncle took me in and raised me to be a pacifist.” Grayson paused as thoughts of his uncle flashed through his head. He smiled. “I couldn’t imagine ever joining the Death Eaters. Not because I didn’t believe that muggles were beneath us and muggle-borns were dangerous, because I did. I really, really did. I was a stupid kid, and most thought it entirely possible that I would join his ranks because of how outspoken I was in these beliefs. But I never considered joining them for more than one brief, terrible second, because… in truth, I don’t think anyone deserves to be murdered. I’ve never relished in the thought of torture either. My uncle was a good man who brought me up to think all life had purpose and to stay out of of the fight if possible.”

“But you didn’t,” Bill pointed out. “You’re here now. You’re fighting with us.”

Grayson took a deep breath and forged on. “On his death bed, my uncle named me his heir. I think I was always going to be his heir. He never planned on marrying or having children of his own. But I knew he didn’t want me to be involved in the politics. He wanted me to stay out of it, out of any and all conflict. He wanted me to stay safe so I didn’t end up dead, like my parents. But there he was, his arms and legs, his left ear, gone forever. And he looked at me and said, ‘I name you my heir, son.’ This meant that I now had rights to his seat on the Wizengamot and when he died, I took that seat for myself. I wasn’t really sure why beyond the fact that my Uncle didn’t have a proxy, so why should I? I remembered thinking how pointless the meetings were and how I’d much rather be home with Naomi and our new baby. And that’s when Sirius Black walked in.

“I had no idea at the time what an effect Sirius Black would have on my life. And a year later when people accused him of kidnapping Harry Potter, he walked into the Wizengamot and gave his testimony and got the right to keep his Godson. And ever since that day, that trial, I was convinced that I had to make a choice. To join the fight. To do good, even when you don’t have to. And sometimes you have to make a decision and hope it’s the right one.”

“And how sure are you that you made the right decision,” Bill asked. “You could have just stayed out of it.”

“No,” Grayson dismissed adamantly. “I have no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision when I chose Sirius Black.” Grayson stared off into the distance of the Black Manor Estate, the season meaning there was nothing but green in every direction. Then he looked at Bill, piercing those blue eyes with his own so the young man knew he was speaking genuinely when he continued. “Sirius Black is someone worthy to be called Lord, someone worth fighting for.”

“Even though he lied to you about Voldemort and Horcruxes for so long?” Bill tilted his head as if to say he was merely interested in the answer, not looking to entrap Grayson with this line of questioning. 

Grayson trusted Bill. The two of them had been working together for nearly three months and Grayson saw a man determined to get the job done, to support the cause. He quit his job to help the Order for Merlin’s sake. So he trusted Bill, even though he did not trust easily. Not anymore.

He had already revealed so much about his life to Bill, things he had told very few others in his lifetime. And perhaps he was making the wrong decision with what he was about to reveal next, but he felt it was no longer time to stay quiet.

“Bill, people keep secrets for a reason.”

“But if you had known about it sooner—“

“However,” Grayson interrupted, “just because Sirius didn’t tell me about Voldemort until recently… doesn’t mean I didn’t already know.”

Bill’s eyes grew wide at this announcement but he didn’t say anything in response. He just stared at Grayson like he was a puzzle Bill was beginning to think wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought to solve.

Grayson stared right back, almost in challenge, but he knew Bill didn’t see him as a threat to be challenged. The young wizard was simply curious, and Grayson could understand. He understood curiosity with every fiber of his being. 

After a long while, Bill finally smiled a bit and Grayson mirrored him.

Bill sighed. “You know a lot of secrets… don’t you, Gray?”

Grayson glanced away from Bill, choosing to stare off into the distance again. From where they sat, he could just make out parts of the Manor through the trees and the Black family cemetery that laid beyond it.

“Yes,” Grayson admitted, a hint of sadness in his tone. “Yes I do.”

***

Hey kiddo,

I hope everything’s going well with your schooling and your friends. I miss you so much and can’t wait to see you in a few weeks for Easter holiday. I thought those first few months of school before Christmas were torturous and assumed it would get easier. Let me tell you, it doesn’t. Sometimes I have the urge just to sneak into the school and sit with you and Harry as you read and study and play chess. I know I sound like such a sap right now, and you’ll have to forgive your old man. I just miss you is all. 

Tonks has officially made herself at home here, so that’s good. And Remus spends much of his nights with us now, and Steven too when he’s not traveling. Still, the house feels empty without you and Harry running around, mucking things up like you do. Corey misses you too. There is much less to do without you around. I think he’s going a little stir-crazy. He hasn’t quite realized how to sit still and relax yet. I’m working on him though. Don’t worry.

Anyway, I really went on a tangent there, didn’t I? Do your dad a favor and rip up that first half of the letter. It is far too soft to ever be read more than once.

I’m actually writing to let you and Harry know that Remus, Tonks, and I are going to visit Charlie. We will be leaving on the 21st and we aren’t sure how long we’ll be out of the country, but we promise to be back before your break in April. If you need to reach us, you can always write Charlie at the dragon reserve, but if it’s an emergency, write to Frank and Alice. They know where we are staying and can have a portkey sent to us immediately.

Please be safe while we are away and talk with your head of house if you have any problems. I know exams are coming up soon, so study. Stay out of trouble!

I love you, kiddo, and I’ll see you soon.

Dad

This was Draco’s eighth time reading the letter. The first time had been when Enzo, Sirius’s pet owl, swooped down to deliver it that Saturday morning during breakfast. The second was immediately after the first, just to secretly ignore his father’s request in the third paragraph. The third was when he handed it to Harry and glanced at it over his brother’s shoulder. The fourth was because a line caught his eye and he had to examine the letter after Harry handed it back to him. Then there was a fifth time when he returned to the dorms to dress a little warmer for the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff quidditch match that afternoon. The sixth was while he was walking to the pitch with Daphne and Theo, almost bumping into them several times when he wasn’t looking. The seventh was after they had sat down in the Slytherin section and he couldn’t get the letter out of his head. And now, after excusing himself claiming a need for the toilet, he sat under the bleachers and read it once more.

He couldn’t quite understand what was so fascinating about the contents of this letter, but he knew there was something there in his father’s words that didn’t quite sit well with the young wizard. He’d spent all morning and much of the afternoon considering why he found this particular missive unique compared to the others he had received over the last few months, and he was fairly sure he narrowed down the why when he heard footsteps coming his way.

He glanced up just as Hermione spotted him and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“You do know that you’re missing the match, right?”

“It’s Hufflepuff and Gryffindor,” Draco reminded her. “I’m sure Theo’ll fill me in later.”

“Well, actually, I can tell you who won right now. Hufflepuff is slaughtering us,” Hermione said. “Even if McLaggen actually manages to catch the snitch, which is hardly likely, mind you, especially considering the Hufflepuff’s seeker is this really talented fourth year, Hufflepuff would still exceed us in points. Oliver is going to be a nightmare when we get back to the common room.”

“Oliver?”

“Oliver Wood. He’s the team captain,” Hermione explained.

“Oh. Say, when did you become an expert on Quidditch, Granger? A few months ago Harry had to explain to you what a bludger was.”

Hermione audibly sighed in exhaustion and she collapsed onto the grass next to Draco. “I had to! It’s the only thing Harry and Ron can talk about like normal human beings, so now I bring quidditch up whenever things are a little awkward between the two of them. And Neville is no help at all. Herbology is the only class Seamus can take without the threat of explosion, so Neville spends all his time with him now talking about plants. And Dean has practically been adopted by my roommates. He spends all his time with them. So now I’m stuck with Harry and Ron all by myself and its really frustrating because neither of them can just get over themselves and have a civil conversation that isn’t about a stupid game in which quaffle is a perfectly logical word to say, for pete’s sake!”

Draco listened to the whole rant with a smile on his face. “Who’s Pete?”

Hermione blinked. “Who’s Pete,” she repeated. “I don’t know. It’s just a muggle phrase.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, nodding, “but you said it like how we say, ‘For Merlin’s sake.’ So I was just wondering if Pete was some kind of famous muggle or something.”

There was a beat of silence where Hermione looked genuinely bewildered by what Draco said before she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter that went on far longer than Draco thought possible. He’d never seen Hermione laugh so candidly before, so completely unrestrained. He smiled.

Eventually Hermione settled down and simply shook her head in response, Draco assumed, to his question. Hermione took one last breath, her smile still wide. “Anyway, I couldn’t listen to those two talk about which team was better anymore. Canons or Tornadoes?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “So now you know the reason I’m out here. Your turn.”

Draco returned his attention back to letter in his hands. He smirked and held out the parchment to Hermione. “Here, Granger. This is why.”

Hermione eyed the letter with confusion and a hint of circumspection. She gingerly accepted the letter and after one glance, returned her attention to Draco with a raised eyebrow. Draco just nodded and motioned to the letter, silently letting her know that she had his permission to read it. Hermione took a deep breath and read Sirius’s letter, Draco watching her eyes dash over the words like the experienced reader that she was. When she finished, she glanced back up with two eyebrows raised.

“Umm… Well Sirius seems to really miss you,” Hermione mentioned quietly.

“Yup,” Draco said nodding.

“Do you miss him back,” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Okay, so is that why this letter looks like you got it over a month ago and not just this morning?”

Draco chuckled humorlessly. “No.” He glanced away and toward the lake that loomed in the distance, biting his lip and considering how to explain. “There was something… off about the letter. I was trying to figure out what it was.”

“And did you,” Hermione asked as she carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Draco, a small demure smile on her lips.

Draco hummed as he slipped the letter into the pocket of his robes. He folded his legs up under himself and rested his chin on his knuckles. “I can tell that he’s worried… and not the worried he usually is, but an unnatural kind of worried. He wrote in the letter for me be to be careful way more than he does normally. And the first two paragraphs, while not particularly strange, they were a bit… atypical. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it, but there were odd things he wrote as well. Like how Remus is going with Tonks and Dad to visit Charlie. Why would he do that? And then Dad went out of his way to say that if there was an emergency I was to contact Neville’s parents immediately. But what really struck me was that last paragraph. I mean—“ At this Draco leaned forward, looking Hermione right in the eyes. “He told me to go to my head of house if there are any problems. At first I just thought he meant Harry’s head of house, but… the letter was written to me. Granger, my dad does not get along with Snape. At all. So… why would he say that?”

Hermione seemed to consider this for a second before shrugging. “Maybe your first assumption was right. Maybe he just meant Professor McGonagall.”

“Yeah… maybe.” Draco knew he didn’t sound convinced. He had spent all morning trying to talk himself into this explanation, but the more he thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. “Or maybe, he knows something we don’t. And this was a subtle way to tell us.”

“You think Sirius… gave you a puzzle to solve?”

Draco looked up at Hermione bemused expression and smiled. “It’s likely.”

“Okay,” Hermione conceded. “So did you solve it?”

“I’ve narrowed it down to two possible solutions,” Draco confirmed.

“Which are?”

“Either, Dad wants me to know that I can trust Snape… or he wants me to know that I can’t trust Snape.”

Hermione considered the two conflicting messages that Draco had garnered from his father’s letter and said, “Well that’s not very helpful, is it?”

“No, not really.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, but Hermione was quick to bring his focus away from his uselessness.

“Hey, but at least now you’re thinking about it,” Hermione explained. “You’re taking notice and paying attention to potential danger. That’s better than nothing.”

When she put it like that, Draco had to admit that maybe the point wasn’t whether his dad meant he should trust or distrust Snape, but simply to observe his surroundings a bit more. Speaking of…

“Have you noticed that Harry has been getting a lot of headache’s recently,” Draco asked.

Hermione blinked at the abrupt change of topic. “Uh… yes actually. I keep telling him to go to the matron, but by the time he agrees, his headache disappears.”

“Hmm…” Draco was glad he wasn’t the only one to notice his brother’s increased headaches these past few months. He remembered Harry complaining about them a few times last semester, but lately they have been becoming more frequent. “Does he get them at night?”

Hermione shook her head, making her curls bounce as if they had a mind of their own. Draco was vaguely reminded of those days when Harry’s hair was just indescribably unruly. “No. It’s only during the day. I don’t really understand them.”

“Can you keep an eye on him for me? If they get worse just make sure he goes to the hospital wing?”

“Of course.” Hermione smiled. “You sort of sounded like Sirius just then. Very protective.”

“Always,” Draco murmured.

“Always,” Hermione repeated. “You and Harry say that a lot.”

Draco grinned. “It’s a family thing. It’s like a promise. We all say it, my Uncle Steven more than anyone.”

“That’s sweet.”

Draco chuckled. “Thanks.”

Just then the stadium started emptying and two redheads spotted the first years and made their way over.

“Mister Black,” said one twin.

“Miss Granger,” greeted the other, both giving identical tips of an invisible hat.

“Fred, George,” Hermione greeted in kind, nodding to each twin as she said their name as if she actually knew which was which. Draco was impressed when the twins didn’t automatically correct her, so she must have guessed right. “You played really well today.”

“Why thank you Hermione,” said Fred.

“Mind telling that to Oliver before he starts in on us,” asked George.

Hermione seemed vaguely uncomfortable with the idea of talking to the older Gryffindor quidditch captain, but after a bit, almost looked as if she were about to agree to putting in a word when Draco jumped in.

“So I take you didn’t win?”

“Not even a little,” Fred sighed.

George shook his head and flopped down onto the grass beside the two first years, his broomstick laying comfortably across his lap. “We actually want to ask you something Draco.”

“Oh uh— okay. Go ahead.”

Fred took a seat beside his brother. “Do you know what’s wrong with Hagrid?”

Draco blinked. “Why would I?”

“You’re perceptive,” said Fred.

“You know things,” added George.

Draco was a bit taken aback by this observation of his character. Did he know things, see things, that others didn’t bother to think about? “Huh. Well… now that you mention it,” Draco admitted, “I have noticed Hagrid acting odd lately. He arrives late for dinner and leaves early. And he didn’t even show up at the game today. He attends every match. Do you think we should check in on him?”

“Let me ask you this,” began Fred, ignoring Draco’s question.

“Does the name Norbert mean anything to you,” George finished.

Draco paused as he let the strange question sink in. “No…” he finally answered. He started a bit as a thought suddenly bubbled to the surface of his mind. “Wait… do you guys think I’m psychic?”

Fred shrugged while George answered with a simple, “We haven’t ruled it out.”

Draco snorted. “I’m not a seer.”

“Yeah alright—“

“We believe you—“

“It was just a hunch—“

“Clearly debunked now.”  
Draco stared at the twins, swiveling his head back and forth between the two, still shocked that they had even settled on that theory. Then he glanced at Hermione who looked just as bewildered as he felt.

“I wish I was psychic,” Draco mumbled slumping against the beam of the bleachers he had been leaning against all afternoon. Then maybe I’d know what my dad was trying to tell me.

“I have to go,” Hermione announced, abruptly standing.

“Go where,” Draco asked, bemused.

“I thought seers were a joke,” Hermione exclaimed. “I have to do some research!”

And then she was gone, without even a goodbye.

“She’s peculiar,” stated George.

“I like her,” Fred declared.

Draco watched his friend’s retreating figure and shook his head fondly. “Yeah, me too.” He returned his attention to the twins. “Okay, so who’s Norbert and can Harry and I come with you to find out?”

Fred and George smiled identical smiles and at the same time replied, “Tomorrow after curfew.”

Draco grinned back. “Agreed.”

 

***

“Knight to F5.” Sirius watched as his knight took out his sword and rammed it through Rosmerta’s bishop. Sirius smiled, but it fell from his face when he glanced up to find Rosie smirking. “Oh no. What’d I do wrong?” He searched the board for a mistake but couldn’t find one. In two moves he was certain he’d have check mate.

Rosie shook her head. “Nothing. You did nothing wrong. You are a very skilled chess player Sirius.”

“Then why do you look like McGonagall after she ate the canary.”

Rosie laughed, moving her queen to F5 bringing his knight down in one blow. It was all part of Sirius’s strategy, so he was still curious as to why Rosmerta was smiling so much.

“I just… well you and Severus obviously play a lot of chess together. You both have very similar strategies.”

Sirius grinned at the mention of Severus. “It’s a favorite of ours. We’re both very competitive.”

“I can tell.”

“Oh yeah?” Sirius took out Rosie’s knight now that his rook was no longer in danger from her queen. “Check,” he announced, before returning to the conversation. “And what else can you tell about us, Rosmerta?”

Rosie settled back in her chair after making the only move she had by pushing her king forward and out of the path of his rook. “You guys are close. And good for each other.”  
“Yeah?” Sirius’s bishop got into position and he called, “Check mate.” Rosie’s King fell over in defeat and he grinned proudly up at her. “How so?”

Rosie picked up her teacup and took a sip before answering. She was careful like that, always taking her time and considering the best answer. “For many reasons, but at the moment, because you protect each other. Keep each other safe.”

Sirius snorted, thinking about where Severus was at the moment. “I think he would disagree with you on both counts there.”

“Both counts?”

“He probably doesn’t think much of my plan this evening. I’m not exactly keeping him safe, am I? And he always thinks he’s putting me in danger just by being near me. He’s got it in his head that his mere presence in my life puts a target on my back.” Sirius chuckled derisively. “What he never seems to consider is that I put the target on my own back. I am Sirius Black. It’s just what I do.”

“I disagree with him about tonight, you know,” Rosie announced.

Sirius cocked his head to the side in question.

“I mean that… well, I know what you’re doing. It’s a good plan. And it will keep Severus safe in the future.”

Sirius smirked. “What exactly am I doing, Rosmerta?”

“You’re building an army,” she answered succinctly and without hesitation. “And you’re making sure that army doesn’t hurt your friend when the battle begins.”

Sirius hummed. “Do you think he realizes this… even just a little.”

“Yes. He went with Remus, didn’t he?”

“I suppose. I hope he knows I’m asking him to tell Bill in preparation for more difficult conversations in the future.”

“Can I ask who else you have in mind,” Rosie asked. These days, Rosmerta Ogden’s conversations with Sirius were poised and diplomatic in nature, as if they were having a business meeting instead of tea and a friendly game of wizard’s chess. Sirius was surprised to find it oddly comforting. It was unique to find someone who was now fully aware of Sirius’s power and influence in this world and treated him with friendly respect rather than sudden fear. “I’m only asking, because surely not the whole Order should be made aware of Severus’s true allegiance. You did choose to keep it hidden for a reason.”

“Very true,” Sirius conceded. “This summer I only planned for Frank and Alice. We’ll see how they take the news before I expand the news to the rest of the Order. Albus has been adamant that Severus was a spy before Voldemort’s so-called defeat, so when the war recommences, I hope the headmaster’s allies will still accept this fact without question. That should keep him somewhat safe with the masses. But I would like our close allies to know the whole truth soon, so if he ever has to betray us”— Sirius put air quotes around the word betray— “then he’ll still have people on his side. And I hope Severus agrees to this when the time comes. But for now, we should focus on Frank and Alice. They are our friends first and foremost, so the truth will either be incredibly hard to swallow, or immediately accepted without a problem. I desperately hope it’s the latter.”

Rosie nodded in understanding, letting her polite demeanor whither away to be replaced by the Rosmerta Ogden Sirius knew well, the one he flirted with as she stood behind the bar and poured drinks at the Three Broomsticks. “Well I’m done waiting for Severus to return completely sober. Drink?”

Sirius’s grin was the only response needed apparently as Rosie stood from her sofa and popped into her kitchen, returning with a bottle of Ogden’s famous fire whiskey.

About five glasses in, Severus arrived with a pop of apparition and glanced between the two of them as they sat across from each other on the same couch, pieces of parchment glued to their head.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

Sirius glanced up at his friend’s dubious expression and quickly asked, “Hey, mate, what’s it say on my paper?”

Rosie squawked and kicked Sirius in the ribs with her bare feet. “No, Severus, don’t answer him. You have to guess based on context clues, Sirius. Play the game correctly. Now, am I pretty?”

Snape looked genuinely confused at her question, his mouth hanging open. Sirius only smiled at him before returning his attention to Rosie and the name written on the piece of parchment stuck to her head. “Yes. The prettiest.”

“Ooh, am I Charlie Weasley?” The parchment unglued from her forehead and landed in her hands. She looked down at the paper and grinned in triumph. “I win!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius grumbled, rolling his eyes. He really was a competitive man. “Alright so who am I so I can take this thing off my head.”

“Oh come on, you can guess it. You have everything you need,” Rosie urged.

Sirius sighed and thought back over the questions and answers he asked. “Okay, so I’m generally considered handsome, but you wouldn’t shag me.” Behind Rosemerta, Severus’s eyebrows raised and he looked aghast at the name on Sirius’s forehead. “I already know it’s not me, because I asked. Am I… married?”

“No,” Rosie answered.

“Jesus, I hope not,” Severus exclaimed, obviously horrified at the thought, because he only used muggle exclamations when he was seriously appalled.

“Alright,” Sirius said, narrowing his eyes in confusion as he considered. “Does Sirius Black know me?”

“You’ve never met in person,” Severus answered for Rosie who looked grateful because she didn’t seem to know the answer.

“Does Severus Snape know me?”

Severus nodded, looking slightly sick. Sirius paled and glanced at Rosie with disapproving eyes. “Please tell me I’m not Tom Riddle.”

The parchment fell from his forehead at the name and Sirius didn’t even bother to check before he crumpled the tiny piece of paper up and tossed it at Rosie in disgust. “That’s not funny.”

Rosie only shrugged, smiling victoriously. “I told you I’d win.”

“You are awful,” Sirius chastised, though he couldn’t help smiling. “And you play dirty. I like it.”

Rosie’s smile grew wider and the two rivals stared at each other until a cough brought them back to present. “Oh hey, Sev. How’d it go with Bill then?”

Severus blinked before simply falling onto the sofa between Rosie and Sirius, his head landing in his girlfriend’s lap, while his legs sprawled out over Sirius’s. Rosie ran her hands through Severus’s hair and Sirius’s patted his black cloak-covered calf comfortingly.

“Please never make me do that again,” Severus muttered into Rosmerta’s blouse, but his words were clearly meant for Sirius. “Next time, can’t I just send a letter like I did with Charlie?”

“Sure, mate. With Frank and Alice, we’ll just send them a letter that says, Steven Prince is really Severus Snape polyjuiced to look like his neighbor. Please reply back as soon as you can.”

Severus groaned, knowing full well that option was beyond delusional. He sighed. “Fine, but you’re going to be there for that converstion. Remus was great and Bill took both of our secrets well, but it’s hard to explain the whole story without you there to help.”

“You got it. I thought it would be overwhelming for Bill if I was there too, but with Frank and Alice, I’d like to explain myself.”

“When will that be then,” Severus asked.

“Summer.”

Severus nodded and nuzzled his face further into Rosmerta’s lap, using her like a pillow.

Rosie smiled down at him, still stroking his hair, and then looked up at Sirius. Sirius raised an eyebrow. “It might be none of my business,” Rosie whispered so as not to disturb Severus too much, who had already started snoring softly, “but Sev said ‘Bill took both of our secrets well’. Does Remus have a secret?”

Sirius bit his lip to keep himself in check before he blabbed to Rosmerta about Moony’s monthly change. “I promised I’d never tell anyone without his permission again. The last time…” Sirius glanced down at the slumbering Severus and grimace. “Well let’s just say, that was the biggest regret of my life. But you are cordially invited to ask him yourself when you visit in a few weeks.”

Rosmerta nodded and smiled shyly at the mention of her visit. This would be the first time that she would be introduced to Draco and Harry as their Uncle Steven’s official girlfriend. Sirius felt really proud when she accepted his invitation a few weeks ago. Severus had looked as if he were on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by his own life. Sirius chuckled at the memory.

“I should probably go check on Remus. You’ll make sure Severus gets back to Hogwarts alright?”

Rosie smiled down at the man in her lap. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” Sirius got up, careful to extract himself from under Snape’s legs so as not to wake the man. He pointed down at the two of them with a knowing smile. “You know, you’re good for each other too.

Rosmerta smoothed back a strand of hair that was hanging in front Sev’s face.  
“Yeah, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I hope you liked this chapter. I spent a lot time perfecting it so it was exactly how I pictured in my head, which is why it was delayed so much. Also, it’s really long, so there’s that as well.
> 
> Just to let you know, part 1 is almost complete. There are only a few chapters left and I’m working really hard on them. Please be patient. You guys are so fantastic and I really hope you enjoy the last few chapters of part 1. The whole story isn’t even close to being finished, so I hope that’s okay with you guys. As always, please leave a comment. They really help my writer’s block.


	25. 1:25- Work Draco

Charlie flooed to the Three Broomsticks and slumped against the adjacent wall to catch his breath. Immediately taking the floo after international portkeying to the ministry really takes a lot out of a bloke. But Charlie’s brothers needed him.

Charlie righted himself, clutching tighter to the briefcase in his right hand and strode to the main dining area, not the least bit surprised at the number of kids crammed into the Inn’s restaurant drinking butterbeer and grousing over their classwork. It was a Hogsmeade day, after all.

Being one of the only adults in the inn, Charlie was tall enough to scour the room without obstruction and found the two third-years he was looking for easily. He traversed the establishment quickly, making sure to stick to the edges of the room to steer clear of the crowd of noisy Hogwarts students. Fred and George happened to look his way before he reached them and pointed toward the door, indicating that they would meet Charlie outside. Charlie nodded before slipping out of the inn and settling on a bench as he waited for his brothers.

“Well, look at you with your briefcase—”

“Aye, very professional—“

“But also a bit like a wanker.”

Charlie stood up as the twins neared him, shaking his head fondly at their antics. Rather than respond to their insult, he set down the briefcase, grabbed each of them by the collars and pulled them in for a hug. Both protested weakly at the affection, but laughed a second later as they embraced Charlie back. Charlie ruffled their hair as he leaned back, grinning widely.

“When did you get so tall?”

Fred and George laughed as the latter leaned down to grab Charlie’s briefcase allowing Charlie the freedom to throw his arms over his brothers’ shoulders as they made their way back toward the castle.

“Nearly as tall as Percy, we are,” explained Fred.

“We think he’s getting a bit of an inferiority complex because of it,” added George.

Charlie snorted at George’s choice of words and tilted his head in sympathy for his absent little brother. “Poor Percy. He’ll be the shortest of us.”

“Surely that will be Ginny,” George stated.

Charlie angled his head to the right and gave George an unimpressed look. “I’m sure Perc will be thrilled to hear that he’ll at least be taller than his sister.”

“He wasn’t really, now that I think on it.”

Charlie glanced to his left and shook his head, because of course they had said this to their older sibling already. Annoying Percy seemed to be the twins’ ultimate goal in this world, and they were succeeding spectacularly. Charlie squeezed Fred and George in closer and looked at each pointedly. “Be nice to Percy, or I’ll tell Mum… or worse.”

“Worse then Mum,” George asked smartly.

“Yeah,” Charlie replied simply. “I’ll tell Dad.”

Both twins grimaced at the thought and Fred sighed. “Fine we’ll be nicer.”

“Good boys,” Charlie praised with a nod. He pulled Fred’s face until he was looking directly at Charlie before, adding, “And don’t think I didn’t catch the ‘r’ at the end ‘nice’ either, Fred Fabian Weasley. When I say be nice, I mean be nice.”

Fred rolled his eyes in response, but surprisingly didn’t add a last little joke as Hagrid’s hut came into view. Charlie stepped back and held out his hand for the briefcase. George handed it to him easily.

“Alright,” Charlie began, glancing at his watch to see how much time he had to secure the dragon inside. The Portkey back to Romania would leave in four hours. “How big is it?”

“Nearly a meter now,” George answered. “He grew a bit since last week.”

Charlie groaned. “And Hagrid has him living in the hut?”

“Yes,” Fred replied. “We promised he wouldn’t get in trouble though. He won’t get in trouble, right?”

“No,” Charlie answered with a sigh. “You did right by contacting me. I’ll have to ask him questions for my report, but I’ll leave his name off of it. And he needs to understand that this was a very dangerous endeavor. How did he even obtain this dragon?”

“He won him in a bet,” Fred explained.

Charlie startled at the answer and glanced up in horror. “The dragon dealer bet the dragon?”

“Well, actually Norbert was just an egg when Hagrid won him. He hatched a few weeks after that,” George clarified.

“To be honest,” Charlie muttered as he walked up the steps of Hagrid’s hut and rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, “the fact that it was only an egg does not make me feel much better.”

There was the sound of a crash inside and heavy footsteps as Hagrid stomped around his hut. “Hol’ on a sec! I’m jus’… cleanin’ up ‘er bit!”

“Hagrid, it’s Charlie Weasley,” he called through the door. “Fred and George sent for me. Please open up.”

The footsteps grew louder as Hagrid made his way to the front door which was wrenched open to reveal the giant of a man. Charlie smiled sympathetically up at him when he noticed how gutted the grounds-keeper looked.

“Hell’er Charlie,” Hagrid greeted, his voice tinged with sadness. He glanced over the top of Charlie’s head and smiled mournfully at the twins behind him. “I didn’t even realize today wers the day… Well, come’n in, I sur’pose.”

Charlie nodded gratefully as the man stood back to let Charlie through. The first thing he noticed as he entered the hut was how incredibly warm it was. The second was the fledgling Norwegian Ridgeback curled up near the roaring fireplace, eyeing Charlie defensively. He was hard to miss… or, actually, she was hard to miss.

“Norbert’s been a good boy ter’day. I think he’s finding a home here—“

“Hagrid,” Charlie interrupted, not taking his eye off the dragon, but making it clear by the tone of his voice that he would be staring Hagrid down if he felt it was safe to do so. “The dragon can’t stay with you.”

And that’s when the giant wizard started sobbing. Charlie was always a big supporter of Hagrid when he attended school here. He always found the large man to be friendly and easy to get along with, always attending the quidditch matches to cheer the students on, and letting those he found out after curfew off with a warning or an easy detention. But Charlie also knew how attached Hagrid could be to things he shouldn’t have. 

And when the giant cried, he shook the whole hut.

Charlie let Fred and George tend to the grounds-keeper while he slowly settled down next to the dragon, his hands held up in submission. Norbert (or, Charlie supposed, whatever the female version of the name was… Norberta?) eyed the dragonologist with interest. Charlie raised a brow as he considered Norberta’s plight. To be cooped up in this hut this last month must have been torture for the young dragon. It might have even stunted her wings’ growth. Charlie was ecstatic to note that she didn’t seem hostile, but he knew that she would have eventually become restless. He dreaded to think how much danger his brothers, and probably the entire school, would have been in if the young female had been left in Hagrid’s care for another month.

Charlie leaned over, ignoring Hagrid’s pleas and assurances that he could take care of the dragon, and carefully presented the briefcase to Norberta. His eyes never left the dragon’s as he unclipped the case and lifted the lid. The stench of chicken blood was immediately potent and the Norwegian Ridgeback lifted her head for the first time, her curiosity piqued.

“Go on then,” Charlie said, his voice low and firm. “I promise you’ll like it better in there.”

Norberta uncurled her body, making the ridges down her back even more prominent in the firelight. Charlie sat, his back ram-rod straight, as he waited with baited breath to see what the dragon would do. She was just a fledgling, unable to breathe fire just yet, and Charlie was certain he could bring her down all on his own if she tried anything, but he still eyed the dragon with immense caution. And if Norberta even looked in Fred and George’s direction, Charlie wouldn’t hesitate to proceed with extreme prejudice.

Finally, the young female sauntered to the open case and slipped inside without a backward glance. Charlie waited one second, two seconds, before he pushed the briefcase closed with an audible snap, letting out the breath he had been holding since Norberta unfurled herself. Charlie locked the case up and got up from the floor. Only then did he face Hagrid and the twins.

“Fred, George,” Charlie said with a nod to them both, holding out the briefcase. “This case was designed by Newt Scamander himself. He made it impenetrable, so the dragon is safely locked away inside. Can you please take it and wait for me outside while I speak with Hagrid?”

George nodded, taking the briefcase handle without question and exiting the hut, Fred right behind him. Once they were gone, Charlie turned his attention to Hagrid. And despite how absolutely wrecked the man looked, Charlie didn’t deter from giving his lecture.

“Do you understand how dangerous that was? How much danger you put my brothers in?”

Hagrid choked on another sob and Charlie waited patiently, his serious expression never wavering.

“I never meant ta put ‘em in danger. He was a good boy and I could’a dunnit. I know I could’a—“

“Dragons are not pets, Hagrid. They cannot be trained or domesticated,” Charlie urged. Charlie paused and let a consoling smile bleed through his stern demeanor. “Not even by you, sir.”

Hagrid nodded as another sob wracked through his body and Charlie comforted him with a quick series of pats on Hagrid’s gigantic arm. Charlie waited for Hagrid to calm down before he continued his interrogation.

“Hagrid, I need to know who gave you the dragon egg.”

Hagrid visibly swallowed. “I was a bit drunk and I din’t see his face none. Hidden under a hood, he were.”

Charlie reigned in his sigh. “Is there anything you can say about him? Anything you remember?”

The giant seemed to think about that for some time before finally uttering a sad, “No, he just seemed glad to be rid ‘a the egg is all. Seems like he came into the Hog’s Head with the purpose of bettin’ ‘im. And when I won, he was real worried I wouldn’t be able to take care ‘a the poor thing. But then I tol’ him abou’ Fluffy.”

Charlie blinked, his next question completely derailed by the name. “Fluffy?”

Hagrid visibly brightened as he explained, “She’s this cerberus I bought off an Irish fell’er a year back. Wonderful creature.”

Charlie paled as he remembered who Fluffy was and what exactly she was guarding. “And you told this stranger about her?”

“Aye. He wouldn’t trust me with the dragon egg otha’wise.”

Charlie took a deep breath as he considered how best to approach this next question. “Hagrid… what exactly did you tell him about Fluffy?”

“Well, the hooded fell’er had qualms about me taking care of a dragon so I explained that I managed Fluffy jus’ fine. Although, she’s pretty easy. You just have ter’ play a li’l music and she’ll go right ter’ sleep.” Hagrid smiled dreamily and then practically jumped out of his seat when he realized what he said. “I— uh— I shouldn’t ‘er said that.”

Charlie had to physically restrain himself from face-palming. No Hagrid, he mentally berated. You shouldn’t have said that, you imbecile. Especially not to some stranger in a fucking hood who happened to be in possession of a bloody dragon egg!

Instead of saying that, Charlie took a deep breath and replied through gritted teeth, “Right, well thank you for answering my questions Hagrid.” 

He wasn’t supposed to know about Fluffy or what she was guarding, so Charlie clenched his jaw and desperately tried to calm himself. All he could think about was how he had promised his brothers that Hagrid wouldn’t get in trouble over this. However, Charlie was having a hard time justifying leaving Hagrid’s name off the report now. This clearly wasn’t a simple case of a dragon breeder looking to make his coin purse a bit heavier. Whoever this anonymous man was seemed to only want information. Dangerous information.

And now Charlie was seriously considering not writing a report at all. The dragon reserve’s auror team didn’t have enough clearance for this level of confidential information. For Merlin’s sake, Charlie didn’t even think he had enough clearance to know that Hogwarts currently housed a cerberus that guarded one of the most powerful artifacts in the wizarding world. He’d have to ask Sirius and Remus for advice on this situation.

Charlie didn’t want to leave on that last note and physically told himself to unclench his jaw and smile a bit. “Maybe this summer, if you would like, you could come visit the dragon reserve and see Norberta and all the other dragons. It’s pretty dangerous, but we do allow guests on guided tours.”

“Norberta?”

Charlie shook his head, trying to calm down and focus on the conversation he was having now rather than the one he would be having with Sirius very soon. “Uh— yes. Did I not explain how the dragon was female?”

“Oh.” Hagrid smiled as he let the knowledge stew for a moment. “Well that’s mighty nice ‘a you to offer, Charlie. You’re a good man, always thought so. But I don’t think I coul’ see Norbert— er, Norberta— again. It wou' be too hard.”

Charlie nodded in understanding, even though he couldn't care less if Hagrid actually visited. Right now, all he wanted to do was get out this blazing hot hut and away from Hagrid’s dog Fang who had come out of hiding with the singular purpose of showing Charlie his gratitude by slobbering all over his hand.

“Alright then. Well it was good seeing you, Hagrid.” Charlie wiped his wet hand on the front of his robes and held it out in farewell. Hagrid engulfed it in his own, shaking it vigorously.

“You too, Charlie. You’ll make sure to tell everyone how grateful I was for the help.”

Everyone?

“Right, will do. Bye.”

Charlie exited the hut and basked in the cool spring air for a moment. He spotted his brothers seated on the hill that lead up to castle, staring up at the clouds with Charlie’s briefcase between them. They glanced his way when they heard footsteps approaching.

George was the first to speak. “Will Hagrid be alright?”

“He’ll be fine,” Charlie answered, crossing his arms. “Although he did say something funny before I left. Something that made me think their were others who helped out a bit with the dragon…”

Fred and George didn’t even flinch, clearly unbothered that Charlie was asking about these unknown others that they had failed to mention earlier. Charlie frowned down at the twins. “Well who are they then? Friends of yours? I’m assuming Lee.”

“Nah, Lee didn’t know,” Fred answered nonchalantly.

“Yeah, he’s deathly afraid of dragons,” George scoffed, as if this piece of information were universally known.

Charlie sighed. “Alright, then who?”

“Oh, you know…” Fred started, his smile turning playful.

“Just your step-kids,” George finished, grinning from ear to ear.

Charlie blinked. “My… what?”

“Draco Black—“

“And Harry Potter.”

“Your future stepsons,” Fred continued, sitting up just enough to poke Charlie in the shin with his wand before falling back down into the grass again beside his brother.

Charlie could feel his cheeks burning, a mixture of embarrassment and pride at his little brother’s words. He folded his arms tighter against his chest like that might stop the blush that was creeping down his neck. It was a futile endeavor. Nothing could keep a Weasley’s flush hidden. It was a terrible family curse.

“Alright then,” Charlie managed between calming breaths. “How was it that you four managed to discover Hagrid’s pet dragon?”

“Ah… sorry, Charlie,” Fred said, hopping to his feet, clearly not sorry in the least.

George jumped up beside his twin. “Yeah, we apologize, but that’s a secret we can’t share.”

“Not even if you make that ‘dad face’ at us again,” Fred added swiftly before Charlie could demand they share anyway.

Charlie startled at Fred’s words, knowing full well they were meant to be a distraction, but letting it distract him anyway. “Wait, I have a ‘dad face’?”

“It’s quite eerie actually,” Fred confirmed.

“You look exactly like Dad when you pull it,” George stated further, smirking at what Charlie could only assume was his own horrified expression. “Don’t take that as an insult Charlie.”

“Yeah, I mean of course you look like Dad, considering you’re practically a father yourself now.”

Charlie blushed again, and rather than engage in this conversation any further, he leaned down and snatched up his briefcase, swiftly turning his back on the twins and stomping his way back to Hogsmeade.

Fred and George laughed behind him and he listened as they skipped to catch up to him, taking up positions on either side of their older brother.

“Oh come on Charlie, you know we’re only joking,” said the twin on his left. Charlie didn’t bother to look in that direction to find out which twin, instead choosing to stare straight ahead, ignoring his brothers’ giggles. 

Charlie knew they weren’t joking. Not really. And while Charlie had slowly gotten used to the fact that Sirius was it for him, that he had found his family in the brilliant Lord Black and his two boys— and Tonks and Remus and Steven— he wasn’t quite ready to tell the Weasley clan yet. Especially considering it had only been about eighteen months since he had explained to his entire family that he didn’t necessarily want to settle down quite yet and was perfectly willing to wait for the perfect man to come along. And now, here Charlie was, settling down, knowing and relishing in the fact that he was just on the verge of inheriting a whole new family for himself. The perfect man had come along, a man who welcomed Charlie into his world with open arms. And Charlie had stepped into that fray so easily, as if he belonged there. How was he supposed to explain that to the Weasleys?

But then, it seemed he didn’t have to explain that to Fred and George. It seemed they already understood and accepted this new life of Charlie’s.

The second eldest Weasley sibling glanced to his left, and then to his right, finding both of his brothers smiling. Brilliant, perfect, twin smiles. 

Charlie remembered the day they were born, how they smiled just like this, like nothing could dampen their spirits and take away their happiness. Growing up, Charlie had always been confused by how joyful the two of them were, always joking and laughing, never letting anything bother them for more than a few seconds. Bill and Percy were a bit moody at times, but never Fred and George. Since they were born into this world together, with the perfect person right beside them, they never seemed to comprehend that life could be anything less than brilliant. Charlie was beginning to understand that mindset too, ever since he met Sirius Black. Voldemort, death eaters, good-hearted oafs who think they can domesticate dragons… The world was scary and dangerous and stupid, but it’s surprisingly less so when you have the perfect person to share it with.

Charlie smiled softly which only forced Fred and George’s smiles to brighten even more, though Charlie didn’t think that possible until he witnessed it. 

They were just on the outskirts of the small wizarding village when the three Weasley brothers instinctively stopped. Charlie turned around to face the twins and pulled them in for another hug, garnering little protest from Fred and George this time. He decided to add a kiss to each twins’ forehead and smiled when this finally elicited fake groans from the two third-years.

“Oh shush, you,” Charlie chastised, reaching up to ruffle their hair and push on their foreheads until they became unbalanced and had to take a step back a bit to steady themselves before they fell over.

George reached up to fix his hair and then turned to Fred to adjust his as well.

“You’re hair is getting long,” Charlie acknowledged.

“Oh gods, you aren’t going to go all Dad on us again and insist we cut it, are you,” Fred asked.

Charlie balked at the suggestion. “Are you kidding?! I say, grow it out as long as you can get away with! And lock your doors when you go home for Easter holiday, or Mum will clip it all off while you sleep,” Charlie warned, his face going pale when he suddenly flashed back to a particularly bad summer before sixth year. Bill had returned from a backpacking trip to Ireland with his mates, a graduation gift to himself, with a pierced ear and hair long enough to wrap in an elastic. Mum had been horrified and decided to take her frustrations out on a child she still had authority over. Charlie found that his hair was still recovering from the onslaught. Charlie rubbed his head just to remind himself that he still had hair.

Fred and George laughed… a little nervously, Charlie noted. They shared a look that Charlie was certain meant that they would heed his warning.

“Alright get back to your friends,” Charlie permitted. “And don’t do anything too mad for your birthday prank this year. But if you do, tell me all about it when we’re all together on Easter, yeah?”

Fred and George smiled again, this time like a promise, and clapped Charlie on his shoulders simultaneously. “See ya Charlie.”

“Bye.”

He watched the twins until they were safely back inside the Three Broomsticks. While there hadn’t been an incident since Tonks found the unicorn in September, one never really knew for certain if Voldemort wasn’t still residing in the tiny wizarding village.

And what if this dragon dealer was Voldemort…

Charlie blanched at the terrible thought that just jumped to the forefront of his mind and suddenly found himself searching the crowd for the surly potions master. Snape had accepted the task of keeping an eye on all the children every Hogsmeade visit this year, and Charlie was positive this one was no exception. However, the search was probably a pointless endeavor since Charlie was fairly certain the wizard was polyjuiced to blend in with the other patrons at the Three Broomsticks. Charlie waved anyway, just in case Snape was looking, but when no one acknowledged his movement, he turned on his heel and apparated home. 

Charlie was probably freaking out over nothing anyway. He’d just talk to Sirius and let him make the necessary calls… And, again, that is if there are even any calls to make. Surely Hagrid would recognize Voldemort even under a hood.

Right?

Once he landed in the field outside Remus’s wards, Charlie took another moment to catch his breath. If he was going to portkey, use the floo, and then apparate in the span of an hour, he really should eat something. Perhaps he’ll ask Corey to make him a sandwich.

It seemed like an endlessly long time before he reached the porch of the family house that lead up to the front door. He typically flooed straight into Sirius’s study which meant the only time he ever made that outside trek was right after the Tonks’s funeral. 

It was warmer now. Spring.

Charlie debated knocking for a split-second, but ultimately decided to just walk right in. Corey was already waiting on the other side of the door when he entered.

“Corey is so happy to see you Charlie,” the elf greeted, his eyes wide and kind just like they always were.

“You too Corey,” Charlie enthused, leaning down to engulf the small creature in a one-armed hug, smiling brightly when Corey reciprocated, his small arms tentatively settling around Charlie’s waist. Charlie leaned back and stood upright before asking, “Everyone is still here right? They haven’t already gone to get Bill have they?”

“No sir. Sirius is stills packing and Mister Weasleys and Tonks are in the family room waiting for Master Remus. Can Corey take your trunk, sir?”

It took Charlie a moment to realize he’d been asked a question and he looked down at the briefcase at his side. “Uh… actually I think I’ll keep it near me.” He lifted the case high and settled it against his ear, listening for any movement. “She hasn’t made a noise, so that probably means she’s sleeping. But you never know how she’ll react to elf magic.” Corey only stared up at him with even wider eyes than normal and Charlie grinned. “Don’t worry, she’s just a tiny thing. Can’t even breathe fire yet. Now, I‘m sorry, but did you say Bill was here?”

“Yes, ins the family room with Miss Tonks.”

Charlie snorted before nodding politely to the house elf. “Thanks Corey,” he said, taking a step down the hall but halting when his stomach rumbled. “Oh hey,” Charlie quickly added, turning back to Corey before he could pop away. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you please make me a sandwich?” He smiled brightly.

“Of course,” Corey replied. “No problems at all. Club on wheat, toasted, no tomatoes?”

Charlie grinned. “You know me so well. Thank you.”

“You is welcome,” the elf stated, before popping away in what Charlie could only conclude was excitement. Well, Sirius had said in his last letter to Charlie how restless the little elf had been since the boys went off to school. He was sure his mother will be just the same next year when she no longer even has Ginny to cook for everyday.

Alright, Charlie admonished, no more thinking of Mum right now. There will be plenty of overthinking to look forward to these next few weeks before Easter.

Charlie squared his shoulders and headed back down the hall, his feet leading him to the family room as if following the invisible impressions his footprints left in the carpet when he had visited previously.

He really wished he didn’t have to visit.

“Wow, you really are here,” Charlie announced as he rounded the corner and found his older brother and Tonks talking to each other on the sofa. “So I guess this means you know.”

Bill turned his body in Charlie’s direction with a look of surprise on his face, which quickly gave way to the unflappable calm that Charlie always associated with the eldest Weasley child. “About Snape? Yes. About Remus? Again, yes.”

“When was this then,” Charlie asked, rapidly settling into the easy familiarity he’d always had with Bill, taking a seat in the sofa across from him and Tonks.

“Last weekend,” Bill announced.

Charlie snorted. “Well I guess I’ve been out of the loop lately. And what about this?” Charlie pointed to the two of them, wondering just how much he had missed by being in Romania that his brother and Tonks had started dating without him knowing. “How long has this been going on?”

Tonks frowned. “How long has what been going on?”

Charlie blinked. Or maybe I’m not that out of the loop.

“Oh, well I guess that was an assumption. My mistake. It’s just, well, you’re sitting so close, and Bill’s got that look on his face…”

“What look?” Tonks turned to Bill searching his face for clues as to what Charlie could be talking about. Bill let her… and that’s when Charlie knew. Poor bastard, Charlie thought with pity. You just had to go and fancy Nymphadora Tonks, didn’t you, Bill?

“Remember that girl he used to follow around all day during our fifth year,” Charlie began. “Merlin, what was her name, Violet something?”

“Violet Bonnet? Yeah I remember her,” Tonks admitted, shrugging. “We used to make fun of how besotted Bill was with everything she said and did. I wonder what happened to her.”

“She moved back to Canada after we graduated,” Bill answered simply, not even bothering to be embarrassed. The Weasley family blushing curse never seemed affect Bill. Charlie suddenly hated him for that.

“Huh, that’s interesting,” Tonks concluded.

There was a long pause and Bill and Charlie actually shared a glance in those brief seconds. Bill shook his head fondly which Charlie could only assume was because he couldn’t believe how dense Tonks could be sometimes, especially considering how good of an auror they knew she was before quitting a few months back.

“Um, Tonks? I don’t really think you’re grasping the reason why I brought Violet up, here,” Charlie noted aloud, a twinge of humor in his tone.

Tonks narrowed her eyes in consideration. “Because…” Suddenly, Tonks shot up from the sofa and gaped at the eldest Weasley. “Oh my gods, you fancy me?!”

Bill shrugged, before relaxing back into the sofa even more than he already had been. “Yeah. I have for a few months now.”

“What?!” Tonks’s hair was swiftly turning bright red and Charlie grimaced but physically couldn’t look away. It was like watching a broomstick collision during a Quidditch match. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Bill looked completely unaffected by Tonks’s outbursts, almost happy with the yelling, like he was enjoying how angry Tonks looked at this moment. And maybe, Charlie thought, he was enjoying it. Oh man, Bill has it bad, doesn’t he?

“Well, I wasn’t sure if it was the right—“

“You weren’t sure,” Tonks interrupted and Bill shook his head in amusement, sighing audibly. “Weren’t sure about what exactly?” 

Bill pulled a face as if to say, Well, if you’d have let me finish… Charlie held back a chuckle, because suddenly he was very much on Bill’s side in this… argument? Charlie wasn’t certain what to call it, because they weren’t exactly having a row, were they?

“You weren’t sure that I fancied you back, is that it,” Tonks continued. “Because, honestly, that’s total bullocks. You must have known that I liked you.” Charlie watched as Bill’s smile widened fractionally, as if he had assumed Tonks liked him all this time, but was glad to hear her confirm it aloud. “So, out with it then! Why did you never ask me out?”

Bill clicked his tongue. “Oh I don’t know,” he said whimsically. “Why did you never ask me?”

Charlie watched as Tonks’s ears turned a violent shade of purple, and he clapped a hand to his forehead, silently concluding that his brother was an idiot.

“Oh no you don’t William Weasley! Don’t turn this around on me! I’m not the Gryffindor here!”

Charlie’s eyes widened, and he audibly gasped. Thankfully no one was paying the least bit of attention to him, but he couldn’t believe Tonks had just said that. Charlie’s brother was an idiot, but so, apparently, was his best friend.

“Wow Nymy,” Bill chastised, still smiling like he thought Tonks might just be the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He slowly rose from the sofa, unashamedly stepping into the witch’s personal space. “That was very house-ist of you. Are you suggesting that Hufflepuffs can’t be brave?”

Tonks squawked. Actually squawked… like a parrot. 

“HOW DARE YOU EVEN INSINUATE THAT I WOULD EVER THINK HUFF—“

Bill leaned in and pressed his lips to Tonks’s, either because he wanted to kiss her or because he simply wanted to shut her up. Probably both.

Tonks went from incensed to surprised to melting into Bill’s waiting arms in a matter of milliseconds. Charlie couldn’t decide if he wanted to grin with glee or grimace with disgust at what he was witnessing. He ultimately decided to just look away as if something to his left had caught his eye and needed to be studied in much greater detail. 

When he next glanced back, Bill and Tonks had ended their kiss and the latter blinked as if she had effectively extracted herself from the imperius curse… and perhaps Charlie shouldn’t equate her expression with that, considering how recently she had actually pulled herself free of that unforgivable curse’s influence.

Tonks clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Fine. Bill Weasley will you go out with me?”

Bill’s smile was so wide it bordered on deranged, but Charlie could see the twinkle of mischief in those livid-colored eyes. “Well obviously I’m gonna have to say… No.”

“Oh my Gods,” Tonks exclaimed, throwing her hands up in long-suffering annoyance. “Could you please be serious for one bloody second?!”

“I mean, if you give me some polyjuice and a lock of his hair…”

Charlie blinked. Tonks gaped at Bill for several seconds, before saying through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry? Did you… just make… a Sirius pun?! In Merlin’s name, I’m going to murder you!”

Bill chuckled as Tonks lunged at him and Charlie took that as his cue to withdraw from the bickering couple. He slipped back out into the hallway without even a bye or leave. It’s not like his brother or best friend would have acknowledged his parting words anyway.

On his way up the stairs, Corey apparated in front of him, handed Charlie a plate with a beautifully made sandwich placed on top, and popped away again. The redhead shook his head at how Corey never waited for a thank you. And the elf deserved some gratitude. That sandwich was delicious. Charlie practically inhaled it as he continued up the stairs and down the hall, finishing the whole thing before he even reached Sirius’s bedroom.

The first thing he noticed when he took a step into the bedroom through the open doorway was the packed trunk ready and waiting on the bed. The second was that his boyfriend was nowhere to be found. Charlie set down the empty plate on the dresser to his immediate left and tapped his knuckles against the door to alert Sirius to his presence. There was a shuffling noise from the en suite toilet and Charlie grinned.

“There you are Moony,” came Sirius’s voice, echoing off the bathroom tile and reaching Charlie’s ears. “Hold on a mo’— I’m just… there! Now my whole bathroom is shining more than a recently minted galleon. I think Corey’ll be angry with me, but I finished packing a while ago. I had to find something to do while I waited for your werewolf arse to get here. Besides, let’s face it… my cleaning spells needed some practicing… By the way, do you think I rely too much on natural talent, because I’m starting to think I should get back into a regular training schedule—“

Sirius came out the bathroom, spotted Charlie, and stopped in his tracks.

“Hey.” Charlie added a little wave with the hand not carrying his briefcase.

Sirius stared at Charlie for a good five seconds, then glanced down at the briefcase at his side, and then back up at the redhead. “Charlie…” Sirius rubbed his forehead with confusion. “You do know that we were just about to visit you, right? Not the other way around.”

Charlie gasped in over-exaggerated horror. Letting the act drop immediately, he smiled and beckoned Sirius over to him. They had been standing too far apart from each other for long enough and once Sirius was within touching distance, Charlie reached forward and pulled the older wizard against him, curling his free arm around the man’s waist. “Maybe I just couldn’t wait another second to see you,” he whispered into Sirius’s ear. Sirius wrapped his own arms around Charlie and practically sagged into the embrace. “Or…” Charlie’s tone turned playful, but he remained where he was. “Or maybe I had work in the area and thought I’d catch a portkey back to Romania with you.”

Sirius chuckled into Charlie’s neck before suddenly freezing and pulling back to look down at the briefcase. “Wait… work? Are you telling me you brought a dragon into our home?”

Sirius looked… well, serious. 

“Umm…” Charlie hadn’t thought bringing a dragon into the house would be a problem and was more than a little surprised that it might just be. “Well, uh— it’s just a baby one, a fledgling,” he supplied hesitantly.

Sirius deflated instantly. “Shit. I was hoping for something more dangerous.” He sighed and Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Oh well. No big deal. It’s just Moony’s always going on about his wards and their supposed strength. Wanted to test them out.”

“Merlin, Sirius! It’s not like I would let a full-grown dragon loose on your property anyway!”

Sirius waved away his statement like he was swatting a fly. “Come now. You would do it for me—“

“No I wouldn’t,” Charlie protested. “An adult Ridgeback would incinerate your house in minutes Sirius—“

“Not if Remus’s wards are as good as he claims they are—“

“They aren’t,” Charlie proclaimed.

Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m going to tell Moony you said that.”

“Go ahead,” the young wizard challenged. “You’ll never get the opportunity to test his wards so it’s a moot point. But the fact that you thought I could contain an adult dragon in this briefcase does not instill confidence that you have any idea how difficult it is to restrain these beasts.”

Sirius grinned. “Well your confidence in their strength is increasing my belief that dragon fire will be able to destroy a horcrux, so that’s good. Bill will be pleased.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, pulled Sirius close again, and landed a simple close-mouthed kiss to his lips, before pushing him away with mock annoyance. “Yes it should be lots of fun bottling dragon fire these next few weeks,” Charlie announced sarcastically, letting the subject of dragons loose in the garden drop for now.

“Especially with a sexually frustrated brother at your side,” Sirius added with a thoughtful expression.

“Sexually frustrated? Wait— never mind. Can we please not mention Bill and sex in the same sentence again? ‘Kay, thanks.” Charlie sighed as he flopped down onto the bed beside Sirius’s packed trunk, his “work” deposited carefully on the chest of drawers by the door. “Why were you waiting for Remus up here anyway?”

Sirius grinned toothily as he fell into the bed beside Charlie. “Because Bill wants to shag my cousin and vice versa. The tension is unbearable.”

Charlie curled onto his side, huffing an exhaustive breath as he faced Sirius, who smirked in a way that meant he knew exactly what he just did. “Okay, ignoring the fact that you completely disregarded my request to exclude all talk of my brother’s sex life out of any future conversations, I don’t think you have to worry about that tension anymore.”

Sirius curled onto his side so they now formed a little circle on the mattress as they faced each other. “Oh yeah? Did you walk in on them mid-shag or something?”

Charlie physically recoiled. “No, thank gods! Merlin’s left tit, Sirius, now I’m going to need a month of mind-healing sessions just to get that image out of my head!”

Sirius chuckled, spouting insincere “I’m sorry”’s every third chuckle. “But seriously though,” Sirius said, returning to the topic, “did those two finally pull their heads out their arses and snog each other senseless?”

“Yes. And, in part, thanks to me,” Charlie stated proudly, his smile returning. “So… you’re welcome.”

“And the world thanks you for your service, Mr. Weasley.”

“All in a days work, Mr. Black.”

***

Remus was nervous, but if anyone watched him these last few days, they wouldn’t be able to tell.

He didn’t flinch when Charlie sat them all down after they landed in their Romanian hotel room and explained the dragon in his briefcase. He didn’t bat an eyelash when he helped Charlie write his report, careful to exclude any mention of Hagrid or his three-headed pet. He willingly let Sirius handle the letter to Rosmerta and Severus regarding the potential threat of Voldemort still looming in the Hogsmeade area. And the next day after Charlie returned from his debriefing with the dragon reserve’s personal auror department head, and the five of them discussed exactly how they were going to go about obtaining the dragon fire they would need to test against Voldemort’s horcruxes, he kept his anxiety internal, not letting his fear for the two brothers show. 

Bottling dragon fire was not only extremely dangerous, but also indisputably illegal, and the two Weasleys would need to be expertly cautious if they didn’t want to end up in Azkaban. While Remus was obviously nervous for his friends, he had to hide his anxiety because he needed to be strong for Sirius and Tonks. As the two brothers considered their best course of action regarding the laws they were just about to break, talking amongst themselves into the late night hours, Sirius and Tonks sat quietly, having wound themselves tighter than a spring, and unwilling to speak up for fear they would snap in two.

The only thing Remus could really do to help everyone was stay sane and calm. If he simply kept Sirius and Tonks focused on their own plans for these next few weeks, then their significant others could concentrate on keeping their illegal activities as covert as possible. It was really the best course of action.

Thankfully it didn’t take long for Ylenia to set up a time to meet with Lord Black. Now Sirius, Remus, and Tonks could begin their part of the mission.

A few months ago, Charlie casually mentioned in passing to his werewolf coworker Ylenia Ardelean how Lord Sirius Black was interested in procuring more of the crystal orbs he received from Charlie over Christmas. At first Charlie had explained that she seemed reluctant to the idea and didn’t come close to setting up a conference between Sirius and the druids that Sirius wanted so desperately. But a few weeks later, Ylenia had sought Charlie out and told him that she would consider a meeting if Sirius ever came for a visit. Being who he is, Sirius Black immediately went about making travel arrangements to Romania and in less than two weeks Remus, Sirius, Tonks, Charlie, and Bill were standing in an empty field just outside the dragon reserve across from a very irate Ylenia Ardelean.

Remus’s nerves vanished in an instant. He stood up straighter and took a step closer to the older female werewolf, making it clear that he was the one she should address during this clandestine conversation. This was his job as Lord Black’s advisor… or at least the job he accepted as his own ever since he met Sirius Black. If he was honest with himself, Remus would have to admit that he had always sort have been Sirius’s spokesperson, even back at Hogwarts. Sometimes Sirius simply needed someone to keep him out of trouble and on topic. His friend tended to land himself in hot water without trying. It was a gift.

“Hello Mrs. Ardelean,” Remus greeted, holding out a hand in greeting. “I’m Remus Lupin, Lord Black’s advisor—“

“It was very dangerous to come to this place without your pack, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus nodded his head and retracted his proffered hand, understanding that this woman, with her arms folded and hostile demeanor, was clearly in defense-mode. It was understandable given how outnumbered she was at the moment, though Remus was probably right to assume a few of her pack members were watching from a distance. He cocked his head and sniffed the air discretely, but he could only smell Ylenia. It had been a while since Remus had been this close to another werewolf and her scent was overwhelming.

Remus grinned tightly, but didn’t retreat. If she thought her words were threatening in any way, she must not have realized exactly whose company she was in. She probably didn’t even realize that Sirius Black was in attendance. “Oh I remember quite clearly just how dangerous it is to be on my own around these parts,” Remus replied dryly. “I spent many months on this continent asking for aid in the war against Voldemort against the wishes of the packs in Britain. And I have no desire to return to that way of life. That’s why, this time, I am not alone. My pack stands behind me.”

Ylenia narrowed her eyes and sniffed the air with a distinct lack of subtlety. She clearly had never considered hiding her abilities from the world like Remus had done his whole life. She probably never needed to.

“They are not werewolves,” she stated simply.

Remus smirked. “No they are not.”

Without having to look behind him, Remus knew exactly how each of his pack stood. On his left, Sirius stood casually, his hands in the pockets of his robes, fidgeting slightly as if he would like this meeting to end soon so he could escape the slight chill in the air. Remus knew it was an act, that Sirius loved assuming the role of the annoyed, underestimated, wealthy playboy. But if you looked beyond the performance, you would notice how Sirius’s feet were positioned as if ready for battle at any moment and that in his pocket, he held his wand expertly by the tips of his fingers.

On his right, Tonks held no such performance. She was an auror in every sense of the word. Her feet were planted firmly, her eyes narrowed and her wand at her side. The only real difference was how utterly plain she looked. Usually her hair was a wild color set in contrast to her mother’s pale green eyes. But now everything about her was a dull shade of brown, so utterly boring to look at, a person’s gaze would simply pass right over her without noticing how formidable an opponent she posed.

Behind their partners stood the Weasley brothers. It had been a long discussion the day before about whether the two of them should even attend this meeting. While the full moon had already passed during the week, Remus was extremely wary of werewolves and Charlie and Bill were not animagus. They couldn’t simply shift and escape disaster if the need arose. But eventually he relented when they turned twin expressions of determination and loyalty his way. 

And that’s how they stood now, arms folded and jaws set, like twin bodyguards watching their backs. 

It was odd. Charlie and Bill looked so different from each other sometimes, Charlie being all soft and gangly, his eyes bright sapphires that always seemed to be smiling with fondness, while Bill was more rugged and sturdy with eyes that reminded you of a light London rain shower. Their bright red hair color notwithstanding, Remus found the two brothers to share little similarities whether it be their physical features or their personality. But when they turned their righteous Gryffindor gaze on you or talked of the Weasley clan or looked at their loved ones with soft, pleased smiles, Remus could swear the two of them were twins, inseparable since birth, like their little brothers Fred and George.

Remus had always wanted siblings. Greyback’s revenge when he was little had derailed any plans for his parents to have more children, so he never thought he would get the big family he had always wanted. And when he was older, he briefly thought the werewolves would provide that family for him, that pack, but he had clearly been mistaken. When he realized he could make his own family, that he already had with the marauders, two of them had to up and leave him, one to the afterlife and the other to Azkaban. It had taken him awhile to let others in after that, but now that he gathered them together and called them pack, he would be damned if he let anyone take them away from him. Anyone.

“And what of the packs in Britain?”

Remus tilted his head as he considered her question. “Most follow a werewolf named Greyback.”

“And you have no plans of joining him?”

There was a heavy pause and he could practically feel Sirius shuffle behind him with anxious energy. Remus stared into Ylenia’s chocolate colored eyes. “Never again.”

Sirius flinched. The two of them had discussed numerous times over the years his brief stint as a member of the British werewolf packs, before Dumbledore sent him to the continent to recruit allies in their war. It had not been a great experience for Remus and he disliked very much talking about it. It still haunted him and evidently, his stories from that time still haunted his friend as well.

“I have my own pack now,” Remus added, mostly to ensure Padfoot of things he already knows but sometimes needed to hear. “And while they may not be werewolves, I certainly would not disregard their strength.”

Ylenia snorted faintly. “Is that why you brought four of them along to this meeting for two?”

Remus grinned. “Well we had planned on only three of us, but you’ve met Charlie…” Remus looked behind him for the first time since Ylenia’s arrival and smiled affectionately at the young wizard. “He’s just a little bit stubborn,” Remus concluded, acknowledging Charlie with a nod of his head before returning his attention to the other werewolf. “Turns out it’s a bit of a family trait.”

Ylenia tilted her head in consideration, her long wavy dark hair cascading over her shoulder. “Alright. I will procure more orbs for you and your master—“

“Ah,” Sirius interrupted, speaking up for the first time. He sucked air in through his teeth creating a soft whistle as Ylenia’s attention turned to him. Although he didn’t move form his position just behind Remus, he did stand up straighter, looking every bit the Lord he was, his grin particularly lethal in the late afternoon light. “I am no one’s master so please refrain from referring to me as such. Remus is my paid employee only because he wouldn’t except my offer to sit on his arse all day doing nothing. What can I say, the man likes to work. And he claims he’d be bored out of his skull without something to do, so as his mate, I had to help, you know? Anyway, in regard to your offer, I’m going to have to decline.”

Ylenia, whose surprise at Lord Black’s presence had slowly been receding, now returned in full force. “Pardon.”

“We did not come here for more orbs. Remus here was top of his class in Runes and Arithmancy, and has already perfected the replication of your little glass spheres.”

Remus couldn’t decide if he wanted to blush at the compliment or chastise Sirius for his brusque tone in the presence of a potential ally. He decided on the former when Sirius’s proud gaze briefly landed on Remus before returning to Ylenia.

With teeth gritted, Ylenia asked, “So why are you here if not for the orbs?”

Sirius smiled toothily. “We seek audience with the druids who designed the orbs. Just the three of us,” he added, carelessly waving an arm to indicate himself, Remus and Tonks, offering no reason why Charlie and Bill would not be coming with. “We thought you might set that up. We can wait a few days if you need it.”

In a strange twist of fate, Ylenia did not lash out in anger at Sirius’s proposition, but instead seemed to lose all sense of her earlier smugness and sighed resignedly. She shook her head and let a small smile grace her lips. “They told me you would say that. I don’t know why I am still surprised when they predict the future, but I always am… Well they have set a meeting tomorrow. I will take you to them. We will meet here at ten o’clock, yes?”

Sirius looked a bit shellshocked by the abrupt resolution to their conference so Remus took it upon himself to answer Ylenia. “Yes, we will be here. Thank you for speaking with us.”

Ylenia snorted. “It is what they wished, so…” She shook her head ruefully before nodding at everyone again. “Until tomorrow.” She seemed to utter her farewell as an afterthought before shifting on her feet and disappearing.

The five Order members remained silent for a long time, all trying to put the pieces of their short encounter with Ylenia Ardelean together in their heads before they spoke.

“So… I just want to make sure everyone else is on the same page as me here,” Tonks finally voiced. “Am I right to assume that the druids helping this werewolf pack foresaw out arrival and have made arrangements to speak with us?”

“That is exactly what I have concluded,” Sirius agreed.

“Well that works out then,” stated Charlie.

Slowly they all grinned, some giving in to the giddy bubbles of laughter lodged in their throats.

Remus chuckled in slight disbelief at their fortune. “Hopefully they have something helpful to tell us.”

***

Immediately after arriving via portkey into werewolf territory, Sirius shifted into Padfoot and circled around Remus and Tonks as they made their way through the camp. Ylenia nearly jumped at the sight of him, but quickly schooled her features. She walked beside Tonks, and Padfoot could hear her whispered question to the young metamorphmagus.

“Are you animagus as well?”

Padfoot watched his cousin, who was once again in her nondescript, boring appearance, nod before replying, “I don’t spend a lot of time in that form though. I prefer to be a witch.”

“But would you not feel more comfortable as animagus while you are amongst us, like your Lord.”

Tonks snorted. “Hardly. In fact, I’d probably fair better in a fight against you if the need arrises if I have access to my wand. No offense.”

“No, I understand—“

“And if you think Sirius is in this form for comfort, you are dearly mistaken,” Tonks interrupted. “He wears that shape like he was born to be a giant black dog. And he wears it now because it heightens his senses and makes it easier to protect us.”

Ylenia glanced down at Padfoot who stared up at her from his spot between Tonks and Remus, making it clear to the female werewolf that he was still cognizant in this form, still every bit the Lord Black she met yesterday behind his ebony-colored eyes. Her demeanor shifted slightly with this knowledge, almost as if she had grown a sense of respect for the three visitors. Ylenia nodded her head at Padfoot and returned her gaze to the narrow forest path before them. Padfoot did the same.

It wasn’t long before the path widened and little wooden houses nestled into the trees could be spotted. Sometimes they would come across a group of children playing football in the front garden, most not even sparing the strangers a second glance. A dark haired man spotted Ylenia from his porch and waved, eyeing Remus and Padfoot with mild curiosity. Eventually the houses became more frequent until they ended up in a small makeshift town.

“How many of the people who live here are werewolves,” Remus asked.

“Nearly half of the adults,” answered Ylenia.

“And the children?”

Ylenia physically recoiled at Remus’s question. “Of course not! The children you can find here probably have a parent or a close family member who has lycanthropy, and we provide shelter for anyone who needs it. Why would you think the children might be werewolves?”

“I was four.” 

Padfoot nuzzled his face against Remus’s leg, letting out a soft whine. Moony simply shrugged at Ylenia’s horrified expression and reached down to pet Padfoot as they headed deeper into the town.

“I… well we don’t do that here,” Ylenia stated adamantly, her tone tinged with sorrow. “My sister Oana and her husband Mihail have made this place a refuge, so that werewolves can live in peace. It was… difficult, for a while. But the druids have been instrumental in making this into a community where no one has to—”

Her words faltered and Padfoot watched as the Romanian werewolf clenched her fists tightly, seeming to think better of finishing that sentence. Every werewolf had their own lycanthropic story, one full of pain and fear, one they probably didn’t want to share. Padfoot whined again and treaded over to Ylenia, offering up his soft fur coat in comfort. Ylenia gave a watery chuckle and unclenched her fists enough to run her fingers along Padfoot’s mane. He gave a cheerful yip and darted around his three companions, grinning proudly.

Ylenia was smiling and it had nearly reached her eyes when they rounded a bend in the road and came upon a small farmhouse nearly invisible behind the unbelievable amount of trees and overgrown bushes surrounding it. “This is them,” she announced, almost like she was disappointed that their journey had come to an end.

Padfoot shifted back into his human form and clasped Ylenia’s hand in his own, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of it. It was an old-fashioned ritual, but there were times when Sirius believed these simple gentlemanly practices felt right. This was one of those times. “We really appreciate all that you have done for us, Mrs. Ardelean,” Sirius voiced as he righted himself into a standing position.

“Ylenia,” she corrected.

“Ylenia,” Sirius repeated. “I hope we meet again in the future. And I’m glad someone’s looking out for the werewolves around here, and that it’s working. It gives me hope that we can one day provide the same kind of life for the werewolves in Britain.”

“I— thank you for your words,” Ylenia said. “I hope you find the answers you are looking for with the druids— And—“ Sirius waited patiently to see if Ylenia would finish that last though. After a brief pause, she forged on. “And if you seek aid with the werewolf packs in Britain, you can call on us. We will help.”

Sirius smiled and Remus cleared his throat behind him. “We might just take you up on that,” Moony said, “though, it might be a while. We have more pressing concerns at the moment.”

Ylenia bowed her head in understanding. “Alright. They wait for you,” she added, indicating the house behind them with a wave of her hand. “Good luck.”

Sirius, Remus, and Tonks watched as Ylenia practically ran back in the direction they just came from until she disappeared from sight.

Tonks sighed. “We ready?”

Three heads turned in the direction of the farmhouse in unison. Sirius set his jaw in determination. “Yes.”

Taking the lead, Sirius sauntered up to the front door and didn’t even get to knock before it fell open with an eerie creek.

“Please come in,” came a haunting voice from deep within the house. “We have much to discuss, Sirius Black.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Here’s another long one. I really tried to get this out to you all last week, since we reached 500 followers on ff dot net and 100 subscribers on AO3 and I thought we should celebrate that milestone with another chapter… but I had too much fun writing Charlie’s part and that was all I was able to finish before last Monday. I spent the rest of this week writing the other two parts. Hope you enjoyed and thank you again to all of you who have followed, subscribed, favorited, bookmarked, reviewed, left kudos, or commented. I can’t believe how well this story is going and how much I’ve actually written. I had no idea this little dream I had a year ago where Sirius adopted Draco would develop into a full-blown story that has already reached over 150,000 words. It’s insane and I couldn’t have done it without all of your support. Invisible chocolate chip cookies for everyone! 
> 
> Fancasts:  
> Ylenia Ardelean- Natalie Portman


	26. 1:26- Wait, Draco

We have much to discuss, Sirius Black.

He knew every line, could mouth along to the cryptic sentences like he had said them himself. Usually he would stand just behind Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, pretending he had actually been there as well, and let the scene play out. Occasionally he would step closer to the two druids and inspect them more intimately, burning their image into his brain, every detail Sirius’s memory allowed.

Severus had dipped his head into the pensieve every free chance he got since Sirius sent him his memory of this unusual meeting with the druids. And the only thing Snape had learned and knew with absolute certainty was that Druids… well, they were really fucking strange.

Severus entered the memory again, this time taking a seat at the small dining table that took up much of the hut. There were two druids standing against the back wall of the tiny house. They never gave names, but being able to distinguish between the two was incredibly easy. 

On the left was an older man, hair graying at the temples. He wore a long, brown burlap sack-like gown that stopped just before the ankles, and he stood barefoot on the wood floor. He had dark brown eyes and his face held no expression. Severus didn’t really like looking at that man much, finding the experience to be unsettling. Thankfully he didn’t really need to, as the man never spoke or even moved an inch the entire time Sirius and the others were in the room. Sometimes Severus considered the fact that he might have been an illusion cast by the other Druid, that the older man never existed at all. He entertained that thought a lot.

The other Druid was young, Severus hazarding to guess around Tonk’s age. His hair draped down to his shoulders in a messy chestnut brown color. His eyes were a subtle light blue and his lips naturally turned up at the corners creating tiny dimples on his cheeks. He wore a similar gown to the older man, but in a dark gray color that was cinched at the waist with a make-shift belt.

Sirius, Remus, and Tonks entered the hut and stood confidently in front of the two druids. Severus knew the conversation that followed by heart.

Sirius: “We do have much to discuss. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

Druid: “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Sirius: “Uh… yes, of course. You couldn’t have picked a better place to settle down. And the werewolves are good people. I’m glad you have been helping them.”

Druid: “I am.”

Sirius: “Right… Was that you agreeing with me?”

Druid: “This is how I must speak to you. Sorry for the strangeness of it.”

Remus: “That is quite alright. We just thank you for your time.”

Sirius: “Yes, we have much to ask you.”

Druid: “Is it?”

Tonks: “I’m sorry but do you speak English? Ow— What? Sirius, that question didn’t make any sense.”

Druid: “Druids can do much. You can ask your questions now.”

Sirius: “Thank you… We really just want to ask you about Tom Riddle, where he’s been—“

Druid: “Is that really what you want to ask?”

Remus: “Pardon?”

Tonks: (under breath) “His English is fine. He’s just weird.”

Sirius: “Do you not want us asking about Voldemort?”

Druid: “Yes, of course.”

Sirius: “Yes you do want us asking about Voldemort or yes you don’t?”

Druid: “Yes.”

Remus: “To which?”

[A long pause.]

Tonks: “I’m sorry if I offended you, sir, but if you could be more clear with your answers, we would greatly appreciate it.”

Druid: “Close.”

Sirius: (gaping at the the druid) “ Um… are you purposefully being cryptic?”

Remus: “Perhaps we can start small. What is your name?”

Druid: “I’m sorry. So many questions.”

Sirius: “We apologize as well.”

Remus: “Yes, we can take this slower if you would like.”

Druid: “I understand. You are forgiven.”

[Another long pause as Sirius, Remus, and Tonks had a silent conversation amongst themselves, trying to decide the next best course of action.]

Druid: “I cannot ask the questions for you.”

Sirius: “We know. We are just deciding what to inquire about first.”

Tonks: “We have speculated quite a bit as to where Tom Riddle has been hiding all these years since his supposed demise. Do you know the answer?”

Druid: “No… It has been infiltrated by your enemy.”

Sirius: “What has?”

Druid: “Then you already know the answers you seek.”

Sirius: “We don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

Druid: “Maybe. We do not know all.”

Remus: “Well that is certainly true. Right now, we know very, very little. That is why we came to you.”

Druid: “Yes.”

Sirius: “Can you please give us a straight answer?”

Druid: “If you let the stars guide you.”

Sirius: “The stars? I know the stars, mate—“

Druid: “As do I.”

Sirius: “Well good for you! I know the stars, but I don’t know how they guide me!”

Druid: “That is up to you. But this is the last time it will make sense.”

Tonks: “None of this makes sense.”

Druid: “And what good would that do?”

Sirius: “What are you talking about? Are you even talking to us?!”

Druid: “You are different. You understand… You know that she said more after you left.”

Sirius: “I—

Remus: “Sirius, stop. Just… stop.”

Sirius: “He’s supposed to be helping us Moony… I just wish he was helping us.”

Druid: “You never listened to the end.”

Tonks: “The end of what?”

[Another long bout of silence.]

Tonks: “He’s not answering anything. It’s like he’s not even here. The end of what, Mister Anonymous Druid Man?”

Druid: “Love.”

Sirius: (sighing) “This is frustrating.”

Remus: “Just try to memorize as much as you can. We’ll go over it later.”

Druid: “You knew that already.”

Sirius: “I’m fairly certain I know absolutely nothing right now.”

Druid: “There is someone at the door.”

[Three heads whipped around, but there is no one there.]

Sirius: “Right.”

Druid: “I have already told you the truth. You just refuse to believe me… or yourself.”

Tonks: “You have told us nothing.”

Sirius: “He’s told us less than nothing, actually.”

Druid: “He knocks, young wizard. You must go. Goodbye.”

And that’s how the memory ends. Apparently, after the Druid’s abrupt farewell, Sirius, Remus, and Tonks found themselves suddenly back outside and no matter how hard they tried, they were not allowed reentry into the Druid’s house.

Sirius and Remus visited the werewolf community every day for another week, but they never saw the Druids again.

Severus shook his head to clear it after being forced out of the penceive. He took a deep breath before re-entering Sirius’s memory once more. This time he thought he would check out the rest of the hut. 

It was small, sure, and incredibly bare, but perhaps there was something Sirius saw here that would help the confusing conversation happening behind him make any kind of sense. When Sirius and company entered the hut and began talking, Severus stopped by the tiny round window carved into the wood and stared at the forest beyond. It was kind of beautiful.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Severus blinked and turned away from the window and back toward the young Druid. “What— ” Severus shook his head and chuckled darkly as Sirius began answering the question himself. Severus stopped listening as he had heard these words numerous times before and returned his attention to the window. “I must be going mad,” he muttered aloud. “For a second I thought he was talking to me.”

“I am.”

Severus stopped laughing and twisted around. “What?”

“This is how I must speak to you. Sorry for the strangeness of it.”

Severus knew the words, had heard them fifty times. Remus’s half of the conversation was muted as Snape pondered the Druid’s statement. “He can’t be talking to me, right,” he asked aloud. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

“Stop it,” Severus shouted suddenly. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Stop this, Severus,” he told himself. “You knew what he was going to say and that’s the only reason this conversation makes any sense right now. He can’t actually communicate with you through Sirius’s memory.”

“Druids can do much. You can ask your questions now.”

Severus snorted, finding the coincidence that his lines fit the Druid’s narrative humorous now. “Fine, what’s two plus two?”

“Is that really what you want to ask?”

The wizard’s smile faltered. “I forgot you said that. I mean if this is real, if you’re talking to me, then I don’t actually want to ask, ‘What is two plus two’. I obviously already know the answer to that question. I don’t need your help with basic maths,” Severus joked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Of course…” Severus paused. He considered the situation for a second and then decided, Fuck it. Why the hell not indulge my delusions? “Are you actually speaking with me?”

“Yes.”

He could feel his heart racing, even though this whole situation was ridiculous to even consider. He spouted off the first question that came to his mind. “Where is Voldemort?”

“Close.”

Snape could feel the blood run cold in his veins. He felt sick. “How close?” When the druid didn’t answer right away, Severus almost cried, realizing how absurd he sounded even too his own ears. “Ah come on, mate, talk to me. Is Voldemort still in Hogsmeade? Has he always been in Hogsmeade?”

“I’m sorry. So many questions.”

Suddenly, this wasn’t really a joke anymore. Severus stopped talking for a long while. “No I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. It’s just…” He snorted. “This is surreal.”

“I understand. You are forgiven.”

Severus’s eyes lit up and he smiled. “I think you actually are talking to me. This is mad. So… should I ask one of my questions again? Or is there something else I should be asking of you instead?”

“I cannot ask the questions for you.”

“Right…” Severus paused for a second. His heart thumped loudly in his chest. “Is Hogwarts safe?”

“No. It has been infiltrated by your enemy.”

“Quirrell, right?”

“Then you already know the answers you seek.”

Severus huffed. “So coming to you was pointless then? Great.”

“Maybe. We do not know all.”

“Do you know if we will succeed?”

“Yes.”

Severus gulped and then took a deep breath. “Do we?”

“If you let the stars guide you.”

Severus nodded, understanding. “Destiny… Merlin, I hate destiny.”

“As do I.”

Severus glanced up and witnessed it for the first time. Soft blue eyes shifted away from Sirius for a split second and seemed to stare right at Severus. It was only for a brief moment, but Snape had officially ruled out that this conversation was simply a strange coincidence. This was actually happening. This was real.

Severus sighed. “I won’t be watching this memory again, will I?”  
“That is up to you. But this is the last time it will make sense.”

“Yeah… Unless I say everything exactly the same as before.”

“And what good would that do?”

He snorted. “Good point. Listen… why did you decide go about it this way? Why have this strange conversation with me instead of in person with Sirius?”

“You are different. You understand… You know that she said more after you left.”

There was a long silence. Somehow, now that Severus realized the Druid was actually speaking to him all along, he understood what ‘You know that she said more after you left,’ meant. He hated thinking about it, hated thinking about that day he overheard Sybil’s haunting words during her Hogwarts interview with Albus. He tried so hard to push that incident from his mind, regretting the events that proceeded that moment more than anything else he’d ever done in his entire life. But it had always eaten away at him, even to this day, that Lucius pulled him away before he could hear the whole prophecy. He dreaded thinking there was more.

Severus could feel his eyes start to water, his vision going blurry. “She didn’t have more to say,” he stated adamantly.

“You never listened to the end.”

A tear slipped from his bottom eyelid and ran down his cheek. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Voldemort fulfilled the prophesy that night,” Snape argued. “Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…’” At this point, Severus was a mess of tears. It had been ages since he cried and it was nice actually to hear Tonks yelling in the background as he did so. It was oddly soothing. “That was it. There was no more than that. He didn’t know that Lily would place a sacrificing charm on herself, that this would make Harry immune to the killing curse that night. That was the power the Dark Lord knew not! It was—”

“Love.”

Snape stopped crying and stared up at the young Druid again. It made sense. “Love is the power Voldemort knows not?”

“You knew that already.”

Severus let a tiny smile settle on his lips, a salty tear sneaking through the gap and reaching his tastebuds. “There doesn’t need to be more to the prophesy,” Severus asserted. “That could have been the end. Right?”

“There is someone at the door.”

Snape blinked. “What, no. You have to tell me I’m right. There wasn’t more to the prophesy. Tell me there wasn’t.”

“I have already told you the truth. You just refuse to believe me… or yourself.”

“No wait.” Severus knew he was nearing the end of the memory. “Wait!”

“He knocks, young wizard. You must go. Goodbye.”

Suddenly the memory shifted and disappeared and he was back in his chambers at Hogwarts, a tapping coming from the front door. He sat quietly for a long moment, letting all that he had just learned recede to the back of his mind, letting his cool facade take over just for a moment. He had kept the notion that there was more to the prophesy at bay for over a decade. He could continue doing that for a little while longer while he stabbed his unwelcome visitor in the neck with Gryffindor’s dagger.

He quickly locked the pensieve back up in his secret chest, which also contained the aforementioned dagger (which he managed to snatch from the trophy room without suspicion immediately after returning to the castle after the Christmas holiday; he was instructed to keep it on him until they had a viable way to destroy Horcruxes… not that he thought the dagger was a horcrux in the slightest) and other expensive things that would be suspicious for Severus Snape to own, since he was not supposed to be, in fact, friends with Lord Sirius Black, before heading to the door. He paused and glanced at himself in his entryway’s mirror, surprised to see nary a tear stain in sight. His face was dry, meaning his earlier breakdown had only occurred in Sirius’s memory. Perhaps that’s where everything should stay.

On the other side of the door was a very cranky Filch. Snape narrowed his eyes at the man and folded his arms across his chest unconsciously mimicking his Godson. “What?”

“The headmaster has asked to see you,” the caretaker grumbled. 

Severus eased up on the hostility. “And he couldn’t come himself,” Sev asked rhetorically. “Fine.” Severus stepped out of his chambers and slammed the door behind him. He didn’t say goodbye to Filch as he strutted past and headed in the direction of Dumbledore’s office muttering muggle obscenities under his breath. 

Most of the kids were already on the train about to head home for the holiday, so the hallways were bare as Snape turned down another corridor and stopped in front of the gargoyle. Severus stared it down, frowning deeper with each second that passed.

“Chocolate frog,” Severus tried. Nothing.

Flinging his hands in the air, he decided to just wait it out. Eventually Dumbledore would realize he had never given Severus the new password to his office. He actually hoped the man would forget. He decided to wait thirty minutes and then head back to his chambers to start packing.

At minute six, the gargoyle moved, and the circular staircase unraveled from the ceiling. Snape sighed, before trudging up the stairs and knocking on the office’s front door.

“Come in.” Severus pushed open the door and found a frantic Albus Dumbledore throwing items into a trunk beside Fawkes’s empty perch. “Ah Severus. So sorry about that. I don’t know where my mind has gone.”

Sev raised an eyebrow, but decided to keep his comments to himself. He was more curious about why the man seemed to be packing up most of his office.

“Are you going somewhere?”

Twinkly blue eyes glanced up from a broken sneakoscope that looked to be causing the old wizard some trouble since he kept putting it in his trunk and then pulling it back out again only to return it to the trunk once more. “Yes. Unfortunately I can’t expound beyond that, headmaster secrets and all, but I will be out of the country for the next five days.”

Severus blinked. This information was sitting heavy in his belly and he could feel himself growing tense. He wasn’t sure why yet. “Right… is this why you asked me up?”

“Yes, well—“ Albus stopped his packing and sat on the edge of his desk to speak directly to Severus. “I thought you should know of my sudden absence.”

Severus licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. “As always, what you choose to divulge and what you choose to keep secret from me continues to confuse me. Your absence from the castle will not affect me in the slightest, Albus, for I am once again spending my holiday far from here, just as I have spent all my holidays since I started teaching at Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore tilted his head in a most condescending way and Severus clenched his teeth and tightened the hold on his wand. “I have never begrudged you for leaving Hogwarts during the holidays, nor have I ever asked you to stay even when we have been understaffed. This was the deal we struck when you began teaching here. And I will not tell you to stay now, even if that only leaves McGonagall and Quirrell to look after the twelve students who are remaining at school this week. I just thought you should know. You may go, Severus. I’ll see you after the holidays.”

Severus nodded his head once as a reply and exited the office before Dumbledore could pull him into another conversation. It wasn’t until he was nearly back to his chambers that he comprehended what Dumbledore was saying.

Quirrell would practically be alone in the castle for five days. Enough time, Severus presumed, to steal the stone without impediment.

Snape yanked open his door with more force than was necessary, almost ripping it from it’s hinges. He then slammed the door behind him and flung himself at the bookshelves, wrenching heavy potions textbooks from the shelves and flinging them at the opposite wall in frustration.

No.

I’m not staying here.

I’m not.

…

I am.

Severus dropped to the floor and reopened his secret trunk, rifling through his expensive belongings until he found the compact mirror he was looking for. Flipping it open, he called out Sirius’s name. Then he waited.

After a long minute, Snape’s reflection in the mirror finally shifted and was replaced by a face Severus knew better than his own. Sirius’s expression was full of worry.

“Severus, what’s wrong? You never use the mirror.”

Snape sighed in relief. Perhaps it was simply the fact that Sirius’s face came through the mirror with such stark clarity that it was almost like the man was in the room with him. Maybe it was seeing the familiar surroundings of their house in Essex in the background. Or it could be that Severus had been hearing the same words from the man for over two weeks when he visited the pensieve and Sirius was finally saying something different. Whatever the reason for why he felt such relief in that moment, he was glad for it, for it lifted the heaviness that had settled against his ribcage slightly. He no longer felt like he was suffocating.

“Sirius, Albus is leaving the castle and that will leave Quirrell alone at Hogwarts, and I know it’s him because I’m certain that’s what the druid meant when he mentioned it being infiltrated by the enemy. There will be no one here except McGonagall and she won’t know to keep an eye on Quirrell, and she’ll be too busy watching the dozen children who aren’t returning home for the holiday anyway. We can’t let him get that stone, because I’m not ready for him to come back. I mean, I don’t really think I ever will be, but he can’t come back right now. He can’t—“

“Severus, breathe!”

Snape stifled his words abruptly and did as he was told. Breathe in… one… two… three… breathe out. Just like Remus had taught Sirius at the beginning of the school year when he was having panic attacks.

“Okay… I want you look at me.” Sev returned his gaze to the mirror and the silver eyes that glared at Severus through it. “You are coming home tonight.”

“But—“

“No. No buts Severus. Fuck the stone!” Severus blinked, taken aback by the severity in Sirius’s tone. “Fuck Quirrell! And fuck Dumbledore! We all know that old coot has a plan, and if he wanted you to be part of it, he should have just told you. He didn’t though, right? He didn’t come out and tell you to keep an eye on Quirrell while he was gone, right?”

Severus shook his head. “No, but—“

“Well then you are not doing that. Let Albus deal with the consequences of his actions for a bit. For Merlin’s sake, let him set his traps and let Quirrell step into them. I don’t care anymore! You. Are. Coming. Home. Tonight. Full stop.”

“Syr—“

“I swear to the Gods, Sev, if my whole family is not under the same roof tonight for dinner, I will go mad. You’ll have to drop me off at the nuthouse, Severus. Is that what you want? Because I really don’t think you want an unhinged Sirius Black on your hands,” he threatened, his voice coming out crystal clear through the mirror and echoing around Severus’s chambers. “I’ll have you know that I am one of the wealthiest, most influential wizards in the country, and I have kept my eccentricities tame in comparison to what they could truly be. You should count yourself lucky. Now, I have been looking forward to this holiday week and I expect everyone to be there… well except Tonks, Charlie, and Bill, but they will be here on Monday.”

Severus opened his mouth—

“And no Sev, that does not mean you can wait until Monday to come home! Tonks, Charlie, and Bill have to travel from Romania the muggle way, because otherwise their bottled dragon fire, which they were finally able to finish siphoning last night, might combust during apparition. We’re not even letting them fly, in case the altitude effects the volatile substance.” Sirius paused for a moment, catching his breath after the heated statement. Piercing gray eyes focused on Severus again. “You, however, are coming home tonight so the boys can tell us all about what they learned at school, while we eat whatever delicious meal Corey was so bloody excited to start this morning! And then you promised Rosie that you would officially introduce her to Draco and Harry tomorrow! Or did you forget?!”

Severus winced. “I didn’t— I didn’t forget, per se.”

Sirius sighed. “This week is not about Voldemort. For once this year can we just have a week, just one week, where we don’t talk about that prick… unless it’s with delight as we watch pieces of his soul get destroyed when the three musketeers return with a possible solution to the whole horcrux problem on Monday?”

Severus nodded automatically and he didn’t have time to regret the instinctive action. The little mirror was taken up by Sirius’s relieved toothy grin and Snape couldn’t find it in himself to take back his nod of agreement. And he really did want to go home. Suddenly staying at the school to watch Quirrell sounded about as appealing as torture.

Sev sighed. “So should I bring the dagger with me?” He grabbed the dragon-bone blade from his trunk and flipped it around with practiced ease. The dagger had sort of grown on him.

“Yeah, bring it.”

Severus brought the dagger to his side. “Do you really think it’s a horcrux?”

“Do you?”

He looked down at the blade that seemed to fit so perfectly in his hand. There was nothing really sinister about, not like how he felt whenever he was near the locket or the ring. “No, not really.”

“Okay, so we won’t destroy it.”

Severus smirked. “So do you still want me to bring it then?”

Sirius smiled, that shit-eating grin that Severus had realized very early on spelled trouble. “Absolutely.”

“Why?”

“Because I want it.”

He couldn’t stifle his chuckle quick enough. “Is this the start of those eccentricities you mentioned earlier?”

Sirius shrugged, smiling giddily.

Severus held the blade up again and stared at it fondly. “Actually, uh—“ Severus cleared his throat and avoided eye contact with the compact mirror as he muttered, “If we aren’t going to destroy it… can I keep it?”

“Sure Sev, just don’t get caught with it,” Sirius replied easily. “Listen, I got to go. The boys should be arriving soon. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, right. Okay… um, bye.”

“Bye.”

Severus stared at his reflection for a long time until it’s confused grin had him snapping the mirror closed with an audible click so we wouldn’t have to look at himself any longer. He put the mirror and the dagger back in the trunk. He would work on making a scabbard for the dagger this week so he could slip it under his pant leg and carry it around with him.

He set to work packing, telling himself to stop worrying so much about Dumbledore and Quirrell, things that weren’t really in his power to control.

He’d just have to wait.

He’d have to wait for something to happen that he could actually do something about.

***

“Three weeks. Hundreds of burns acquired. Twelve different dragons. Four near-death experiences. Three times we were almost caught and sent to Azkaban… if Azkaban is even where we would go after being caught in Romania. Perhaps the Romanian prison system is even worse than ours… Anyway— Despite all that, despite every day for three weeks feeling like I was about to have a heart attack because of the stress, I would brave it all again. If this bloody works, I would do all of it, every single second, right over again. In a heart beat.”

Tonks listened to Bill’s little speech, nodding along to every word. To some it may have seemed to be an exaggeration, but she had been there. Everything Bill said was horribly accurate.

With all the nonsense that happened with the bloody druids, Tonks was not about to leave Romania without contributing in some way to the “destroy Voldemort” cause. And she certainly wasn’t leaving her Weasley boys to fight dragons alone… even though that had been the plan from the start. Too many people living with Charlie for three weeks on a dangerous Dragon reserve was suspicious. And she should have returned to Britain for the Wizengamot summit at the beginning of the month. 

But she was not going home without them. 

Thankfully Sirius agreed with her, probably relieved that someone was staying behind to watch out for Charlie and Bill while he and Remus had to return to the island. She was humbled that Sirius considered her powerful enough to be there to watch the boys when he couldn’t.

The whole ordeal had been grueling, and as Bill stated in his speech, stressful as all Hell. When Tonks joined the two redheads, they had barely bottled enough dragon fire to kill an ant, let alone a metal locket forged almost a millennium ago that contained the soul of a very powerful wizard. The reason for this lack of dragon fire was that one of them, usually Bill, was always keeping watch while the other, usually Charlie, riled up the dragon of the day and siphoned as much of it’s flames into a glass vessel as he could. As soon as Tonks arrived, everything became a lot easier. Now, while one kept watch, the other two could face the dragon together. The system was still incredibly flawed and all three suffered from terrible burns every night, but at the end of the three weeks, they had three full bottles of dragon fire and none of them went to prison.

Then began the harrowing journey on foot and by train as they traveled across Europe praying to the Gods, and anyone else who would listen, that the volatile substance in their trunks remained in tact and didn’t blow a hole in their train car.

But they made it. And now they were here, standing in an empty pasture just outside Black Manor ready to test their hard-earned treasure on Slytherin’s locket.

Bill placed one of the bottles of dragon fire beside the horcrux on a floating piece of plywood. The flames swirled dangerously in the glass container as Bill stepped away and joined the circle of bodies. Everyone could feel the temperature drop instantly. The locket almost seemed to shiver, like it desperately wanted to move far, far away, but couldn’t because it was an inanimate object. Tonks glanced away from the horcrux to see Bill smiling hesitantly, as if this display by the horcurx was a good sign, but he was still worried that by showing hope that this was going to work would mean that it wouldn’t.

“Everybody ready?”

Tonks returned her focus to the matter at hand after watching everyone else do the same. Bill was to her immediate left followed by Grayson Greengrass, Naomi Greengrass, Rosmerta Ogden, Steven Prince, Remus Lupin, Amelia Bones, Alice Longbottom, Frank Longbottom, Sirius Black, and closing out the circle was Charlie Weasley on Tonks’s immediate right.

Tonks held out her wand like the practiced Auror that she no longer was. Her task was to create a circular barrier, a modified protego spell she learned during auror training, around the plank of wood as soon as Bill cast a confrigo at the bottled dragon fire that would let the flames spill out. Grayson, Rosie, Remus, Alice, and Sirius were all doing the same, hopefully creating enough of a shield to keep the fire that erupted contained. Naomi, Steven, Amelia, Frank, and Charlie were meant to create a barrier of water to douse any flames that seeped through their barricade. They had practiced their shellwork two dozen times the day before until everyone was comfortable enough to try it on the real thing.

And now it was time.

“On my mark,” Bill announced.

Tonks shifted her feet and tilted her wand slightly. The words to her spell were on the tip of her tongue.

“Get set… Confrigo!”

Before Bill’s spell even hit the target, Tonks had incanted her protego spell, making sure the sphere was complete and without fault.

The sound that followed a millisecond later had Tonks physically startling, though her wand remained steady, as did the spheres surrounding the horcrux. She didn’t even see the glass bottle shatter. One second it was there, the next it wasn’t. The boom was incredible, but it didn’t come close to the scream that followed soon after. It was a wail, a terrible screech that seeped into her bones and made her whole body tense up in pain. She could feel her legs tremble beneath her, but she held strong. That barrier would remain until it was safe to let it go.

She watched through the bubble of water and the filmy walls of their protection barrier, her mouth agape, as the dragon fire erupted again and again, tumultuously pounding against the barricades that blocked it’s escape. Black smoke with a mind of it’s own struck the barrier with high-pitched wails, as if under the cruciatus. She gripped her wand so hard, she thought she might snap it in two, but just when she felt her strength waning, the flames vanished and the screaming stopped.

She dropped her wand and her arm fell from where it had been suspended in midair becoming a dead weight by her side. There was a splash of water as the others dropped their barricade as well and a light mist settled around the circle or wizards.

Tonks legs still wobbled, but she refused to collapse and it seemed everyone else was refusing to do so as well. Her breathing was heavy and quick, but with every second, she was regaining her strength, her identity, herself. The screams still echoed in her eardrums, but they were slowly fading as well, until finally they were nothing more than a dull memory that would probably end up haunting her dreams.

Surprisingly, Grayson was the first to move. His steps were calculated as he crossed the now damp meadow to search for the locket in the grass. Tonks watched with baited breath as the man stooped down, grabbed a charred piece of metal from the ashes that had once been a floating plank of wood and held it up for everyone to see.

His eyes were bright as he stared at every single person in turn, the first being his wife and the last being Bill. All eyes were on Grayson Greengrass. The world had stopped turning for a moment. All noise had ceased. Everyone felt numb as they waited.

“It worked.”

Tonks burst into tears then. She was happy. She was terrified. She was ecstatic. She was exhausted.

She had no idea what anyone else was doing, but it didn’t matter. This was an experience that they shared, twelve of them forever bonded because of this one moment. Arms encircled her from behind and she leaned into the embrace, so familiar she was with it ever since that day in her flat after her parents’ funeral. She could hear Bill mumbling something into her hair, but couldn’t make out the words. Every emotion seemed to bubble inside of her at once, until all she felt was overwhelmed. It was too much, but also, just right.

“Do you think he felt it,” she whispered to Bill a few hours later, after everyone left to their own homes to celebrate or run around or bathe or take care of their children or sleep for a decade. She, Bill, Sirius, and Charlie were the only ones still at the manor. They’d hardly moved an inch since Grayson handed Sirius the melted locket and left with a grin so wide it hurt to look at. They couldn’t really. Not yet.

Sirius fiddled with the locket in his hands. She knew he wanted to go home to Harry and Draco, where Remus had gone an hour back to make sure everything was alright. But something kept him at the Manor with his cousin and the two Weasleys. Whatever that something was, Tonks didn’t know. But she could guess. 

Sirius had always been good at keeping secrets when it involved bad news. This— actually destroying the bloody artifact that had eluded Sirius for so long until now— wasn’t bad news. And he probably desperately wanted to celebrate with his children, but knew it would raise a lot of questions he was in no mood to answer.

“I doubt it,” Bill answered and Tonks had to take a second to remember what she asked. “I wish he felt it… but I also don’t. We can’t let him know we’re destroying his horcruxes one by one… especially since we don’t have them all yet.”

“I guess that’s the next step for you then, Bill,” Sirius announced. “After we destroy that ring tomorrow, we have to find the others.”

Tonks could feel Bill nodding his agreement into her shoulder. “I’ll help,” she mumbled quietly.

Bill smiled into her neck and whispered, “Okay.”

Sirius chuckled, whether from the exchange or the annoyed look on Charlie’s face, Tonks didn’t know. He rose from his spot on the grass with a groan, the bones in his spine cracking back into place. “Merlin, I’m old.”

Charlie hopped up after him and clapped his boyfriend on the shoulder. “Oh really? Should I be getting you a cane?”

Sirius’s gray eyes twinkled with delight for a moment, before they suddenly narrowed, his grin replaced by a scowl. “And be like Malfoy? Yeah, I don’t think so. See,” he proclaimed in annoyance, “this is why I don’t have all those wealthy wizard eccentricities. Malfoy ruined them all for me.”

Charlie laughed and wrapped an arm around the older wizard’s waist, giving a quick kiss to his cheek. “Well come on then, old man. I’ll be your cane.”

Sirius visibly brightened. “I like the sound of that. Take me home.”

Charlie looked down at Tonks and Bill. “See you tomorrow?

Tonks nodded, settling into Bill’s arms even further as they waved their goodbyes and Sirius, with the help of Charlie, trudged their way back to the Manor to floo home. 

She really liked this. She really liked Bill. She told him as much. “I really like you.”

Bill’s arms tightened around her stomach. “Good. And I really like you too Nymy. I don’t take just anyone home to meet the family, you know.”

Tonks snorted. “I’ve already met your family.”

“Not as mine.”

“Yours, huh?”

“Yeah… mine. And I am yours.”

Tonks knew it was fast. They’d only been dating for three weeks and most of that time was spent flying after dragons. But Tonks and Bill had been circling each other for months. And if Tonks was honest with herself, she was Bill’s the day he held her while she cried and ate terrible casserole with her and listened earnestly as she explained how she had been feeling since her parents’ death. 

And if Tonks was really, really honest with herself, she was Bill’s the summer before year four when she visited Charlie, the day she gave up and let him call her Nymy.

Tonks sighed. “Okay, but this whole thing with your parents on Friday… it’s not about us, alright?”

“What do you mean?”

Tonks twisted around in Bill’s arms until she was facing him. “Look, we can talk to them and make sure they know how brilliant you are. And how brilliant I am,” she added, smirking. Bill nodded, and rubbed the goosebumps from her arms since a chill had settled over the meadow now that the sun was going down. “But… Bill, we need them to know how brilliant Sirius is.”

Bill remained silent for a long while, so she continued, hating the quiet.

“Your parents already like me. I have no idea why, but we both know your Mum wanted me with Charlie from day one.” Bill’s face twitched and a tiny frown settled on his lips. “Oh don’t give me that look,” Tonks admonished, physically pushing the corners of his mouth up with her thumbs. “He’s bloody gay, and I’ve always been yours William Weasley. Now listen, you numpty, because this is important.”

Bill grinned of his own free will and he snagged Tonks’s hands away from his face and held them in his lap between them. “I’m listening.”

Tonks smiled shyly, not a common expression for her, but she found herself flustered more frequently these days. “Good,” she stated firmly once she found her voice again. “Because Sirius loves your brother… a lot. In a nauseating, makes me want to sick all over him kind of way.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “Charlie too.”

“Exactly,” Tonks exclaimed. “I want them to be happy, Bill.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Tonks grinned. She felt butterflies in her stomach, the goose pimples on her flesh no longer having anything to do with the cold. He rubbed her palms with the pads of his thumbs as he waited for her answer. Now, all she really wanted to do, though, was go home and snog him senseless. Thankfully she was staying the night with him, so that was exactly what she would be doing.

“The plan is we get your parents to like Sirius.”

“And how do we do that,” Bill asked.

Tonks grinned. It was the scheming kind of grin that was synonymous with being a Black. Sirius smiled like that. Draco smiled like that. It was a family trait.

“We make sure they see Sirius’s best quality, that he isn’t just a very wealthy, extremely privileged, and surprisingly powerful wizard who is pulling their son along.”

Bill leant forward, understanding Tonks enough to play along to this little game she started by asking, “And what pray tell, my dearest Nymy, is Sirius’s best quality?”

Tonks leaned in as well until all she could see were cloudy blue eyes, bright and incredible in their sincerity.

“He’s a great father.”

Her answer came out much softer than she expected. Perhaps that was because the statement rang true, not only for how he was with Draco and Harry, but how Sirius Black was with her, as well.

Sirius loved his family with a fierce protection that one only noticed when they got to know him.

So Arthur and Molly Weasley were about to get to know the real Sirius Black, or her name wasn’t Nymy Tonks.

***

Bill wasn’t one to be the center of attention. When he talked, people listened, but no one would make Bill the main character of their story. It’s not that he wasn’t special enough, or funny enough, or good-looking enough. He was all of those things.

But he would simply prefer watching everyone else go about there days in their own unique ways than have them stop their lives to pay attention to him.

So when everyone gathered at the house in Essex Friday morning to get ready for their own adventures that day, Bill sat in the corner of the staircase and merely watched them all with a stupid grin on his face.

“Bill, what about this?”

Bill glanced up the staircase where Tonks was wearing a simple yellow sundress, making the purple of her hair and the green of her eyes stand out. “You look lovely.”

“That’s what you said the last three times I asked.”

Bill shrugged. “I thought this day wasn’t about us Nymy.”

Tonks frowned, her left eye twitching. “Fine, this dress’ll do then,” she huffed, making her way down the stairs and stopping at Bill’s side. “Have you seen Sirius yet?”

Bill chuckled as he wrapped his arms around the back of Tonks’s bare legs and rubbed her thighs. “He’s come down the staircase on five separate occasions, each time in a different outfit.”

Tonks giggled and leaned down to cup Bill’s face in her hands. “And did he look lovely?”

Bill pulled on her legs until her knees buckled and she fell forward, all her weight resting on Bill’s shoulders. He tilted his head up and kissed her sweetly on the lips. When he pulled back he smiled playfully up at her. “I think the blue shirt suited him well. He should put that one back on.”

Tonks laughed heartily, swiftly kissed him on the cheek, and swooped back upstairs, presumedly to find Sirius and force him to put the blue shirt back on. Bill knew what looked good. He also knew what his Mum would like. A bright blue shirt that matched Charlie’s eyes… Bill couldn’t think of a more subtle way to get Sirius on his Mum’s good side.

His dad probably would have liked the red paisley number Sirius had worn on his fourth trip down to the kitchens. It was horrid and Bill was genuinely surprised Sirius Black would even own something like that.

Charlie strutted into the foyer from the living room, pulling on his tie. “Why do we always have to wear these bloody things?”

Bill beckoned him closer and when his brother took a seat on the step next to him, he pulled out his wand. “I’m going to teach you a spell and it’s something you can never let anyone know about, okay?”

“Why not,” Charlie asked, though he looked eager to learn something new.

Bill smirked. “Because it ruins the affect if people know why I always look so cool and comfortable. But you’re my little brother, and I forgot to get you something for Christmas, so…”

Charlie’s face brightened considerably. “Wait— are you telling me you know a spell that actually makes you cool?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Charlie snorted and Bill grinned at him. “Ready?”

“Oh I was born ready,” Charlie promised.

Bill chuckled. “Alright— and remember, you can never tell anyone about this charm, got it? I developed it myself so only I get to share it with people.”

Charlie nodded. “Fair.”

“Okay,” Bill continued, holding up his wand and aiming it at Charlie’s tie. It was weird to point his wand away from himself, but he didn’t have to alter the wand motion too much as he incanted, “Mollitbricae decorum.” He watched as the tie unknotted itself only to retie itself a moment later, but Bill could tell it worked when Charlie’s eyes widened exponentially.

“Merlin’s left tit, Bill!” Charlie’s hands went to his tie as if to feel if it was still there. “What did you do?”

“I softened it… a lot.”

“Wow, it— it doesn’t even feel like I’m wearing anything,” Charlie marveled. “That’s amazing. Wait— do you do that for all of your clothes?”

Bill smiled smugly. “Yup. I pretty much always feel like I’m in the nude.”

His brother gaped at him. “What?! That’s… actually I don’t think I would like that very much.”

“It takes some getting used to,” Bill assured him. “But it means I can wear really uncomfortable clothes that look good and still feel relaxed and casual.”

Charlie sighed. “You are something else, you know that Bill?”

Bill shrugged just as Rosmerta, Steven, and Remus came in from outside.

“I don’t want to go.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “Rosie, we’re going. We said we were going, so we’re going.”

“Oh— are we going? Because I’m not sure if you said it enough times already,” Rosmerta mocked in annoyance.

Severus huffed in exasperation. “You were the one who said yes to the invite!”

“I didn’t know what I was saying yes to, Steven!”

“He’s our friend,” Snape argued.

“Well he isn’t mine. Grayson is— annoying!”

Bill raised his eyebrows at the declaration but didn’t want to intervene in the argument. Charlie had already snuck upstairs and Remus was desperately trying to slink away into the kitchen without being noticed.

“Rosie come on,” Severus urged, grabbing her hands in his. “I know you were in Ravenclaw with him and he was bloody irritating, but he’s a different person now… Aren’t we all?”

The witch’s face softened and Bill wanted to give Snape a gold star. That was the perfect thing to say. “Fine,” Rosmerta relented, her face giving way to a playful smile. “He did seem different the other day. That’s why I said yes.”

Steven grinned too, and Bill marveled at how difficult it was to see his old potions’ professor through that expression. He had to hand it to Severus Snape. He could act.

“Good, so can we go?”

Rosie snorted. “We’re going for dinner, Steven. I’m not spending all day at the Greengrasses, for Merlin’s sake. We’ll just hang out with Remus for a little while until then,” she stated primly before turning on her heel and following after Lupin into the kitchens.

Snape remained where he stood for a long time, taking long, deep breaths. After a moment he looked at Bill who nodded at him in commiseration. Snape nodded back before heading into the kitchens after his girlfriend.

There was a chuckle behind him and he glanced up the staircase to find Harry Potter, dressed nicely in a pair of black slacks and a crisp light green dress shirt, seated a few steps above him.

“Hey,” Bill greeted.

“Hi,” Harry replied, perching his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his knuckles.

Bill twisted around to face the eleven-year-old fully. “I bet this is strange, to have all these people in your house.”

Harry shrugged. “I actually kind of like it. It’s why Draco and I used to spend most of the summer at the Hogsmeade house. I’m glad more people know about this place. It’s quite a lot of fun.”

Bill tilted his head in consideration to Harry’s answer. “Well I understand that. I have six siblings so I get wanting a full house.” Harry grinned. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, how are you doing… with, you know, Sirius having Charlie and Steven having Rosmerta and Tonks having me?”

“Well, I’m fine with everyone except you.”

Bill scoffed. “Ouch. That hurts, mate.”

Harry giggled. “No seriously though, I… I’m glad everybody’s happy. I’ve sort of been waiting for this, you know. It’s not like I had any illusions that everybody in my family was going to be single forever. Even Remus. I doubt it will take him long. What weirds me out though is how everyone in my family seems to love redheads.”

Bill blinked. “Huh. That is…”

Harry laughed. “Yeah. Even my Mum was a redhead. Are we all just destined to end up with gingers?.”

He watched as Harry shifted nervously in his seat. Bill narrowed his eyes and smirked. “Isn’t your friend Susan a redhead?”

Harry blushed a deep scarlet. “Shut up,” Harry muttered into his fist and Bill laughed. “How do you even know about Susan?”

“As part of my job for Sirius, I sometimes have to speak with her Aunt,” Bill answered. It was the truth, and Bill was glad he didn’t have to lie in this instance.

Harry nodded in understanding. “Oh.”

Bill and Harry sat in silence for a bit. Although he was having fun watching Harry squirm, he decided to throw the lad a bone. “Where’s Draco?”

“He can’t decide if he should where gray or blue,” Harry explained, rolling his eyes at his absent brother. “Git.”

“He should wear the blue,” Bill stated plainly, already picturing the father and son looking dapper as they greeted Bill’s parents.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion, but he did stand up and take a step back up the stairs. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”

Bill grinned at the young wizard in gratitude as Harry retreated to find Draco. Bill was good at this. Tonks would be happy.

***

“We’re eating outside Bill. Can you set the table, please?”

Bill headed out to the back deck with a stack of fourteen plates floating behind him. 

So far things hadn’t gone well. And that’s all thanks to the presence of Aunt Muriel.

Bill had planned for everything. Ever since Tonks made her feelings known Wednesday evening, he had come up with every possible scenario in his head for how this reintroduction of Sirius Black as Charlie’s boyfriend could go wrong. He planned for ill-timed mentions of the Order. He planned for long awkward silences. He planned for wardrobe malfunctions. He planned for if Harry or Draco were ill. He planned for dragon-talk, quidditch team rivalries, disagreements about Dumbledore, and old school prejudices regarding Slytherins.

But he hadn’t planned for his great-great Aunt Muriel to show up unannounced bearing fruitcake that absolutely no one wanted to eat.

And the first thing she said when she arrived was, “Oh my, that is a stark-white head of hair. Like Abraxas Malfoy, that is.”

Bill wasn’t prone to violence, but in that moment, he wanted to strangle his Aunt to death with his bare hands, to watching the life in her eyes fade out until she was nothing but a wrinkly old corpse.

Because another thing he had not planned for, was for someone to bring up the Malfoys.

But now that Muriel had mentioned that family, that was all his mum and dad would see when they looked at Draco. They’d see Lucius Malfoy, which was a ridiculous notion. Clearly the boy was Sirius’s. They walked the same, they talked the same, they had the same eyes and the same grin. They were even dressed similarly thanks to the brilliant mind that was William Arthur Weasley.

But Malfoy-hate ran deep in their family. The way the Malfoys had lorded their wealth and privilege and blood-status over the rest of the wizarding world for generations, sickened Bill’s parents beyond measure.

Bill had watched openmouthed as Arthur’s eyes turned cold and Molly’s smile began to strain at the corners. It happened in milliseconds. One moment everything was fine, the next was like a nuclear bomb had gone off.

Sirius had stiffened and threw an arm around his son’s shoulder as if to keep him from harm. It was horrible.

Bill had planned, damnit! He was good at this. It was what made him such an excellent curse-breaker. He worked every possible solution and mapped out all the problems that could arise before he even began at unraveling the curse in front of him. And with two sentences his Aunt Muriel had stepped between him and the cursed object only to have it’s blast radius triple in size and wipe out everything in its path.

It was actually the twins who suggested they all go outside to play. It didn’t ease any of the sudden tension in the room, but Ron and Ginny were already dragging Harry through the living room and out the back door while Charlie tried easing Sirius, whose hold on his son had tightened into a death-grip, to follow after them.

Fred and George stayed just long enough to throw wary glances Bill’s way, but he waved them off, so they pulled Percy outside with them. Tonks glared at Muriel until she too headed outside to comfort Sirius, Charlie, and Draco. That was okay. Bill had this. He was going to salvage this day if that was the last thing he ever did.

So when he stepped out onto the porch an hour later, he was pleased to find a viable solution to his problems.

Sirius and Charlie were picking teams for an impromptu footie match. Somewhere along the way, they had conjured a picture perfect black and white hexagonal football and two seven-meter-wide nets sat on opposite sides of the garden. Apparently the ten of them had been practicing the muggle sport for the last hour, as most of them were sweaty in their nice Easter clothes.

“Okay, I pick first,” Charlie announced. “And I choose Draco.”

Sirius scowled. “Then I pick Ginny.”

“Fair,” Charlie allowed. Bill could only gape as everyone seemed to nod in understanding at their choices. He simply had to assume that Draco and Ginny were the best at the sport. Perhaps they were. “Fred and George.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sirius interrupted before the twins could make there way to Charlie’s side. “You can’t pick two.”

“I’m not splitting up Fred and George, Sirius,” Charlie reasoned. Sirius huffed, but conceded. “Besides now you can pick two.”

“Harry and Ron then.”

“Still fair.”

“Alright, pick your last one. I’m good either way. Honestly, I’m surprised, but all of you are pretty decent at football,” Sirius complimented. “This will be a good game.”

Bill set down the last plate and rushed inside. It would be a good game. And his parents had to see it.

Thinking on his feet, Bill called into the kitchen. “Mum, I’m not sure I set the table correctly! Are we sitting two people at each end?! Or three?”

“Two, I think,” his Mum called back.

Bill smirked at himself in the hallway mirror. “I don’t know, Mum! Maybe you should come look at it! I’m not sure it looks right!”

Bill waited one beat… two.

Molly came out through the shutter doors to the kitchen huffing in exasperation. “Merlin’s sake, sweetie, I think I can trust your judgment on this…”

But like he knew she would, Bill’s mum headed to the back porch to check on the table herself. Bill joined her a few seconds later, but her attention wasn’t focused on the table. Nope.

Bill strode closer to stand beside his Mum, careful not to bump her and sway her thoughts away from the game. He simply watched the match with her.

Ginny was making her way down the “field”. She passed the ball to Harry, who snuck it past Draco and passed it back to Ginny, who kicked the football toward the goal, only for one of the twins to block her shot and kick it out of bounds. Ron was the one who threw it in, tossing the football in Tonks’s direction who was quick to take control of the ball, with her fancy footwork. She passed it back to Ginny again, but Draco swooped in and snatched it away from her. 

There were a lot of cheers coming from the two keepers, Charlie and Sirius, as the two teams continued to run up and down the field trying for a shot at the goal.

“You can’t just leave me alone with your aunt, Moll… what’s this?”

“Shush Arthur, Ginny’s got a shot on goal,” Molly explained, quickly picking up the terminology from Sirius’s running commentary.

“This is that muggle sport, right,” Arthur asked Bill in a hushed whisper.

“Yeah, it’s called football,” Bill answered. “Wait— this is it, the goal’s wide open— GO GINNY!”

Molly was cheering as well as Ginny flung her leg back and forward again in a smooth motion, connecting with the black and white ball and allowing it to sail into the net easily. From the opposite side of the “field”, you could hear Sirius screaming his head off as he ran toward his teammates and helped scoop Ginny into the air and onto his shoulders, running around the garden in a frenzy.

“GOOOOAAAAALLLLLL!!!! GOOAAALLL!!! GOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL!!!” Sirius’s shouts could probably be heard in the next town over and soon everyone on his team was shouting the one word phrase, and then those on the opposite team were shouting it, because they wanted to celebrate too. Bill, Molly, and Arthur were shouting as well, and Bill knew they looked like utter imbeciles, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop smiling

Because they were smiling.

Ginny was grinning like she had won the world cup single-handedly, and she waved at her parents who were clapping and giving thumbs up from the porch.

“Oh— the rolls,” Molly gasped.

“I’ll get them,” Bill offered swiftly. He ran into the house before his Mum could object.

He swung into the kitchens on a high and flung his wand at the oven doors and pulled out the hot tray, setting it on the bare stovetop. He whistled while he worked, grabbing an empty platter form the cupboards and filling it with the warm bread rolls. He then placed a stasis charm on the platter and turned to head back outside, only to find his Aunt Muriel staring at him from her perch on the barstool behind the countertop.

“He really does look like Abraxas.”

Bill’s smile fell, but he was determined to keep his optimism. “It doesn’t matter who he looks like,” Bill stated resolutely. “His father is Sirius Black.”

Aunt Muriel smiled, that horrible ugly gossipy grin that always set Bill’s teeth on edge.

“Yes… but who’s his mother?”

“She was an American. She went to Ilvermorny,” Bill answered, having found out this information from Tonks and Charlie while they were in Romania… Although Charlie didn’t seem all that confident in his answers when Bill asked about it.

“I suppose, we’ll find out in time if that’s true,” Muriel continued cryptically. “I’m certain all we’ll have to do is wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Three chapters left for book one. I really hope you like them.
> 
> Also, I made a Harry Potter fanvid. You can find it on my youtube channel and I also posted it here on AO3. It's set to Goner by Twenty One Pilots, and might serve as a prologue to a future fanfiction I might be posting on here. I just thought I'd let you know about it.
> 
> Fancasts:  
> The Young Druid- Sebastian Stan (I might be going through an I-love-all-things-Marvel phase which is actually more like an I-love-Bucky-Barnes phase. I found out Sebastian Stan was born in Romania and that was it for me. It’s like he was meant to play the anonymous young Druid we will probably never hear from again. Haha.)


	27. 1:27- Believe Draco

Draco huffed and looked down at his watch again.

“Would you stop doing that,” Daphne muttered, not even looking up from her textbook.

“I would if we could knock,” Draco groaned pointedly. He glanced at the fat lady who simply harrumphed in response. “Look,” Draco said, standing up to face the fat lady in her portrait, “you’ve put me through this all year. I don’t want to go inside and hang out or anything. I get it. I’m a Slytherin, blah blah blah.” Here, Draco rolled his eyes. “But you could at least let my knock actually be heard inside the common room. Clearly my brother slept in or something because it’s been—“ Draco looked down at his watch again, “twenty minutes since they said they’d meet us to revise.” Draco flashed a charming smile before adding, “Please.”

The fat lady’s eyes softened and he watched as she studied him in greater detail. “You remind me of him.”

Draco could feel a phantom pressure on his shoulder and he was suddenly transported back to that day almost two months ago at the Weasley’s. He shivered involuntarily but no one noticed. No one ever seemed to notice. “Who,” Draco asked, swallowing dryly.

“Your father, of course,” the fat lady proclaimed loudly, her face breaking out into a wide smile. “Sirius Black. That boy, I swear.” She shook her head fondly as if remembering a particular event at Hogwarts involving Sirius that probably wasn’t very funny at the time. “Fine, very well. You may knock.”

Draco sighed in relief. He had a feeling his sudden solace had far less to do with the fact that he was allowed to knock on the door to Gryffindor’s dormitory than he would have liked.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a polite smile. He headed to the door and knocked twice. He couldn’t hear anything coming from inside, but suddenly the door was pulled open to reveal an older Gryffindor Draco didn’t know.

“Can I help you,” the girl asked. She glanced at the color of his tie, but didn’t comment on it.

“Hi, sorry to bother. Potter, Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger were supposed to meet with us this morning,” Draco said, indicating Daphne behind him who was still seated on the top step with her head in a book. She wasn’t reading it though. Draco could tell.

“Sure, I’ll go check on them,” the girl replied before shutting the door gently and propelling Draco back into the quiet of the stairwell. He wasn’t sure why, but he had expected the girl to ask who he was talking about. She had to be at least a sixth year. But apparently everyone knew Harry Potter.

Draco went to sit back down beside Daphne who had completely given up the pretense of reading at this point. “I wonder what’s taking them,” Daphne said, closing her textbook with a dull thud.

“Well let’s ask them,” Draco countered just as the door to the Gryffindor common room opened again and Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione stepped out. “What took you so long,” he asked, standing up along with Daphne and turning around to face the four Gryffindors.

“Harry lost his notes,” Neville explained.

Draco snorted while Harry made his defense. “I think I left them in DADA on Wednesday. It’s the only place I can think they would be.”

“Well considering these notes are for DADA, that’s a good bet,” Daphne said wisely. “Do you think you can help us revise without them?”

Harry grimaced, blushing slightly. “Maybe, but… well I sort of went a bit mad when we decided on this revision schedule. I had whole lesson plans and I made practice exams and everything.”

“I did the same thing Harry,” Hermione reassured him.

“Of course you did, Granger,” Draco commented dryly. Hermione glared at him. “What?” Draco held up his hands in defense. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with that. I can use all the help I can get in History of Magic, especially if I want to surpass you for top of the class—“

“Alright, walk and talk,” Daphne interrupted, already heading down the steps and urging the rest of them to follow. “Theo’s alone with two Hufflepuffs. I think he might AK himself.”

They reached the ground floor and made their way out to the courtyard, laughing and chatting along the way. It’s been quiet around the school lately with OWLs, NEWTs, and end-of-the-year exams coming up starting next week and Draco wasn’t surprised to see the school grounds littered with students with their noses glued to their textbooks. He was sure the Library was worse.

Draco and Daphne lead the group of six over to the spot they left Theo, Susan, and Hannah and when Theo spotted them all, he grinned with obvious relief.

“Thank Merlin,” he muttered under his breath as Draco and Daphne took a seat on either side of Theo under the shade of the oak tree they chose earlier that morning. He leaned in close to his two friends and whispered, “I was about to AK myself.”

Draco chuckled. “Daph made that same joke earlier. I think you guys spend far too much time together.”

Daphne grinned as she pulled out her notebook and flipped it open to their schedule. “Alright, everyone,” she voiced loud enough for all nine seated in a circle on the grass to hear her. “So the plan today was Astronomy, Potions, and Defense,” she stated, pointing at each word on her schedule as she said them, “but Harry left his notes in the classroom. I can switch Charms to today and DADA can be next Saturday,” she suggested.

“But Flitwick is supposed to be teaching us a few more spells this week,” Susan reminded them.

Daphne nodded. “Yeah, same with Transfiguration. And we’re finishing up the chapter about the Trillium Moon Sisters in History of Magic this week, as well, and I know Hermione wanted to wait on that for next Sunday so all the facts would be fresh in our minds. Herbology is tomorrow since that’s when we have access to the greenhouses. That’s why we made the schedule this way. So what should we do?”

“I can try to find my notes during lunch,” Harry offered. “I’m sure the classroom is open even if it’s a Saturday.”

“What if they aren’t there,” Ron asked.

“Then we’ll have to double up next weekend,” Draco explained. “But it can’t hurt to look. Harry and I will search the DADA classroom during lunch and meet you all in the Great Hall after. If we don’t find them, we’ll just revise for Potions.”

Eight heads nodded in unison.

“Alright then,” Draco said, nodding his head as well and clapping his hands once. “Good plan. Now, is everyone ready to draw some constellations,” he asked, grinning when he was met with eight identical groans as they pulled out sheets of blank parchment paper from their bags. “Excellent. First person to draw all twelve astronomical signs correctly gets this tin of biscuits,” Draco added, pulling the sweets from his bag and showing them off.

Most everyone looked up with delight. “The whole tin,” Ron asked from Draco’s right.

“Yup. Every single biscuit. Hasn’t even been opened, so they’re still just as fresh as the day Pippy made them.”

Across from him, Harry was shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re just going to give away your birthday present.”

Draco shrugged. “She sent me two tins. And I’m sure she’ll make more this summer. I think I can last without another one for two weeks.”

“If you say so,” Harry snorted.

Granger looked up from her parchment. “Do you want the other stars around them as a frame of reference,” she asked her quill already poised and ready.

“Nope, just the constellations themselves,” Draco answered. “And make sure you measure the distance between the stars correctly. And label them,” he added. “Everybody ready? Go!”

A half an hour of silence later, Hannah tapped him on the shoulder, taking his attention away from the latest Batman comic Dean gave him for his birthday. He was still surprised the Gryffindor even bought him a gift. It kind of nice. He looked up and Hannah nervously handed him six sheets of parchment, the constellations he was asking for in monthly order, perfectly sketched and labeled. Draco grabbed the tin of biscuits and handed everything back to her with a grin.

“These were perfect,” he quietly praised.

Hannah broke out into a proud smile and skipped back over to her spot in the circle, opening the tin and chomping down on the peanut butter cookie as the others continued their sketches. She glanced up at Draco and held one of the biscuits out with a raised eyebrow. He nodded and she flung the sweet his way, laughing when he practically bowled over Theo in his attempt to catch the wayward treat. Theo’s annoyed, “Hey,” finally broke the silence and soon everyone was talking and asking about their drawings. Draco and Hannah spent the next hour making comments and correcting a few errors in the other seven first-years’ work. Then Draco gave them all a pop quiz on the history of these constellations and by the time everyone’s stomach was rumbling for lunch, the nine of them were set and ready for next week’s astronomy exam.

Draco was really proud of his friends as they packed up and made their way back inside the castle. None of them really needed much convincing when Granger and Greengrass suggested spending two weekends in a row revising for the final-week exams, which was honestly surprising. But maybe it was because studying with your friends didn’t really sound all that bad. Draco actually found it to be fun.

When Harry and Draco split up from the rest to head down to the dungeons, Draco knocked his brother in the shoulder with his own. “I can’t believe you lost your notes. I expect that from Nev, not you.”

Harry chuckled as they rounded the corner and headed down the spiral staircase. “I know. They have to be in the classroom. I remember showing them to Quirrell to see if he had anything to add, and I must have left them.”

“You showed them to Quirrell,” Draco asked, perplexed. “What’d he say?”

Harry shrugged. “He said they were good. He seemed a bit… confused. Like he was surprised his students were actually going to revise.” Harry chuckled as they neared Quirrell’s classroom.

“Well, he used to teach Muggle Studies. I don’t think anyone ever studied for that class,” Draco joked.

The door to the dungeon classroom was closed but unlocked so Harry and Draco made their way inside and began searching the desktops for Harry’s notes. “It could be that someone’s taken them,” Harry groaned when another stack of papers he was searching through didn’t contain the Gryffindor’s DADA notes.

“Who would take a first year’s Defense notes?”

“I don’t know Draco,” Harry responded. “But they aren’t here.”

“What are you looking for?”

Two heads whipped around to find Quirrell leaning casually against the doorframe to his office, just to the right of the front door. Draco hadn’t realized the man had been in there.

Harry rubbed his forehead sheepishly when he answered, “We were just searching for my notes, professor. The one’s I showed you on Wednesday.”

“Oh yes, I remember,” said Quirrell. “You’ve misplaced them?”

Draco looked down at his arm surprised to see goose pimples on his flesh. He felt strange, sort of like how he felt when Charlie’s great Aunt Muriel mentioned the color of his hair. He felt wrong somehow, like he didn’t fit in his own skin, like the Earth had shifted on it’s axis and suddenly everything was different. His gaze shifted over to Harry again who was still rubbing his head. His scar.

When neither of them answered the professor’s question, he continued. “My, my, that’s a shame. They were quite good.”

Draco could feel his breath become labored, like his larynx was being squeezed and he couldn’t breathe properly. His hand was drifting to the pocket of his robes, reaching for his wand like a lifeline. He felt cold eyes shift from Harry to him and Draco froze like a statue. He was trapped in Quirrell’s gaze, so unlike the bumbling, hesitant eyes that had greeted him all year. His heart clenched.

“Sir,” Draco managed to say. “What happened to your stutter?”

Quirrell’s lips twisted up ever so slightly, a terrifying smirk that scared Draco to death. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his brother pull out his wand with a quickness that never ceased to amaze Draco. But it didn’t matter.

“Flipen—“

“Silencio.” Quirrell’s wand flicked in Harry’s direction before Harry could finish the knockback jinx and the professor laughed when Draco pulled out his own wand. “Petrificus Totalus,” the wizard incanted and now Draco literally couldn’t move, every inch of his body frozen in place.

Unable to speak, Harry charged at the professor, physically trying to knock the man down so he could escape through the front door and get help. But Quirrell, while surprised at the tactic, simply hit Harry in the chest with a stunning spell before the young wizard could reach him. Draco could only watch as his brother fell instantly, his head making contact with the hardwood floor with a sickening crunch.

Harry! He wanted to yell, but every inch of his body was frozen. His eyes were already wet with unshed tears. He needed to get help. He needed to find Snape, who’s classroom was closest. He would know what to do. Draco physically tried to break out of the binding spell, but he wasn’t strong enough. Deeply frustrated, he wanted to thrash and scream for someone, anyone, to help Harry, but he couldn’t. The Slytherin couldn’t think of a worse way to die.

Quirrell lowered his wand and smirked down at Harry’s still body. “Well that worked out better than anticipated,” he stated to no one. His gaze drifted to Draco. With a quirk of his head, he sighed. “I can never seem to get him alone though, can I? He’s always surrounded by friends.”

Draco could feel air puff out his nose in a mock snarl, the only way he could physically respond in his rigid state.

Quirrell snorted. “Oh quite frightening, Mr. Black. Now… what shall we do with you?”

“Let me speak to him.”

The voice was chilling, like a hiss. It assaulted Draco’s eardrums and ran through his body, making him ache all over. His eyes widened, the only action his face allowed that conveyed the sudden panic he suffered through in frozen silence.

“My lord, we do not have the time. Let us just kill him and—“

“Silence! I will speak to the boy.”

Draco watched in horror as Quirrell did as he was told with obvious trepidation. He slowly unwound the turban from the back of his head.

Draco wanted to retch. He wished he was anywhere but facing the red-eyed demon that was observing him now. He could hear himself sobbing behind his closed mouth.

“Draco Black…” A shiver ran down Draco’s spine, but he couldn’t do anything to take away the pain. “The boy I spared,” the demon spat with obvious disgust. “I wonder… were you meant to die that day… instead of me.”

Voldemort. The monster on the back of Quirrell’s head was Voldemort.

Red eyes glared at Draco and as if Voldemort were in control of Quirrell’s legs, he stepped closer to the young Slytherin until he was mere inches from Draco’s face.

“Perhaps there is a reason you still live… Perhaps you will join me…”

Draco tried to scoff at the offer and it must have shown in his eyes since Voldemort’s ugly face sneered in contempt. “I see…. Another Black refusing to accept who he is… Arcturus was the same…” The red eyes became slits, the pale whiteness of his face growing whiter with each second. “But I have watched you this year Draco… I have heard tale of you, how the other professors claim they haven’t seen one who so embodies Slytherin as you do…” An awful twisted smile had Draco shivering again. He didn’t think he had ever been so cold, especially considering it was probably 35 degrees Celsius outside. “I have a hard time believing such a thing… But let us see if it is true.”

Draco felt like he was being assaulted, his eyes blown so wide he considered the possibility that he may never be able to blink again. His head hurt like someone was poking and prodding inside his brain… which perhaps that’s what was happening.

Flashes of his life appeared before his eyes, most involving Harry Potter, his family, his friends, but mostly Harry.

“The love you have for Potter is sickening… I will stamp that out at once…”

No. Not Harry.

“But underneath all this fondness for a boy about to die, I see the doubt in you…. How you question your father… How your love for him has become strained…”

No. He was wrong. Draco loved his father despite the doubts. Always.

“And you trust someone you think might not be appropriate… Ah, Severus… Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Draco…”

No. There is nothing of Draco for Voldemort. And did he just insinuate that Snape was— no. Just… no.

“I think I’ll spare you once again… Take it as a gesture of good will and remember that I can always kill you later…”

Coming out of an intrusive legilimens (which is what Draco concluded Voldemort was using to read his thoughts) was almost as painful as the initial assault, but at least now he could blink. When his vision cleared, he could see Quirrell doubled over as if in pain while also rewrapping his turban.

“That was dangerous, my Lord. You are still too weak— I mean— we have not retrieved the s-stone yet, my Lord.”

“Yessss… I know…”

Without the focus on Draco and with his potential death no longer looming over him, he was able to focus on the dialogue between the Defense professor and his master. It made Draco’s skin prickle with unease, just listening to someone so obviously terrified converse with the back of his head like it might kill him if he spoke out of turn.

“Y-you mentioned Severus, m-my lord.”

“What of him?”

“…N-nevermind.”

“Grab the boy.”

“Yes, sir.” Quirrell swooped down and collected the limp body that was Draco’s brother and set it on one of the student desks. He then spent the next few minutes performing feather-light and disillusionment charms on Harry’s body. This was the first time Draco realized Quirrell wasn’t planning on killing Harry. 

Yet.

He wondered what the master and his follower needed with Harry Potter. Something to do with a stone, if Draco heard correctly.

“We are set, my lord.” A pair of cold hazel eyes landed on Draco again. “What shall we do with the other one?”

“The spell I taught you.”

Quirrell nodded as if Voldemort could see it. He then aimed his wand at Draco’s head. Draco stared at Quirrell with a hatred that could not be denied and refused to even blink when the professor incanted, “Tempi Somnume.”

Everything went black.

***

Snape was just leaving Pomona Sprout’s chambers, very happy she had some extra ginger root in her cupboards for Monday’s fourth year students’ wit-sharpening potion lesson, when he spotted Granger and Greengrass exiting the kitchens.

“Where could they be,” Hermione asked, sounding very worried.

“They can’t possibly still be looking,” Daphne reasoned.

“We should check though. Maybe they got detention.”

Daphne shook her head. “They may get into trouble sometimes, but they haven’t gotten a detention all year. I very highly doubt a teacher would give them detention when they’re looking for Harry’s notes in order to revise.”

Severus stepped out of the disillusionment spell that kept the door to Pomona’s chambers hidden and stalked after the girls.

“Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass,” he greeted kindly, even though inside he felt a sense of foreboding. He pushed that feeling down, as far as it could go. The last time he felt this, nothing had happened. He returned to the school after Easter break and nothing was amiss. Everything was exactly as it always was. That would be the case here, too.

“Hi professor,” Daphne said, returning his greeting.

“What are you doing here, Professor Snape,” Hermione asked, not unkindly.

“Professor Sprout had extra ginger root,” Snape dumbly explained, holding up the evidence of his exploits as if to validate his statement. “Where are you both off to on this Saturday afternoon? I believe I overheard in class a plan to revise for your exams.”

“Yes sir,” Daphne answered, smiling politely “We seem to have misplaced Draco and Harry though,” she joked, though it came off forced.

“They were supposed to meet us after they searched Quirrell’s classroom for his… notes… Sir, are you alright?”

Severus knew they had been walking while they conversed, and he knew that he had halted mid-step at the mention of Quirrell. He knew his silence was unnerving the children, and he knew… he knew this time that he was right. His intuition was right. That sense of foreboding he felt before had been right. He believed that with every fiber of his being.

He took off at a run, up the stairs to the ground floor, down the long hallway, and back down the stairs to the dungeons. He ran and didn’t stop running until he reached Quirrell’s classroom. He tried wrenching open the door only to find it locked. He pulled out his wand, unlocked the classroom with an “Alohomora” that nearly ripped the door off it’s hinges in it’s severity. And now he was inside.

It was empty.

Snape searched the room with his eyes and found nothing. “What,” he muttered.

“Sir,” came a tiny, slightly breathless voice behind him. He twisted around abruptly and found both the girls he had left behind in his haste staring up at with wide eyes. “Sir, what’s wrong,” Granger asked.

“I—“ Severus spun around again to face the classroom. He blinked. “No,” he muttered aloud unconsciously. “No it has to be— this time I’m right.” He pulled out his wand and placed it flat on the palm of his right hand. He had been working on Remus’s version of the four-point spell, a handy charm that pointed you in the direction of whoever you wanted to find. He didn’t have it quite right yet, since his sense of smell was not as good as Lupin’s. He could never seem to get his wand to point to the person he chose that day to practice on, instead always pointing North, like the spell was meant to do. 

But he’d been able to recognize his Godson’s scent since the boy was a few months old. He could do this. “Point me.” His wand spun and pointed to the back of the classroom. “Is that North,” Severus asked.

“Yes, sir.” Daphne’s voice seemed confused and he didn’t blame her. But he couldn’t explain. It was too much and all he felt like doing was falling to his knees and crying.

He’d been crying far too much lately.

“We have to find them,” Snape stated resolutely, turning back to the two girls once more. They could help him find Draco and Harry. “Where do you think—

“Professor, do you hear that?”

Severus halted his question immediately after Hermione’s interruption. The silence lasted for approximately five seconds, but it felt like ages. He heard it though. It was a… snore?

The sound came from the cupboard that lined the North wall and Severus sprinted to it, flinging open the doors with exuberance.

And there he was.

“Draco,” Snape whispered. He grabbed his godson’s sleeping form and hauled him out of the cramped cupboard, laying him on the floor.

“Oh my God,” Hermione screamed, rushing to her friend’s side and laying his head in her lap. “Draco, wake up.”

Daphne was right behind her, kneeling down beside her fellow Slytherin. “Draco,” she urged, shaking him. “Draco it’s us. Wake up.”

“Something’s wrong, professor,” Hermione said needlessly. Snape was well aware of that fact.

Severus checked the boy’s pulse and held his hand above Draco’s mouth to count how long between each breath. Everything was fine, as far as he could tell. “I think he’s under some kind of sleeping curse. Perhaps even a bewitched sleep. He’ll wake up when the spell wears off.”

“How long,” Daphne asked.

Snape rubbed at his face and ran another hand through his hair. This was too much. “They usually last twelve hours. I’ve only ever seen it done a few times.”

“Where’s Harry,” Hermione asked, her eyes welling up with tears as she stroked Draco’s hair.

Good question. Severus shot up from the floor and searched the other three cupboards, finding all of them empty of a certain green-eyed boy. He turned back to the girls. “I don’t know.”

“Who would do this,” Daphne asked, grabbing Draco’s hand in her own.

Severus already had his wand out readying for another modified four-point spell. “Point me,” he said, and he watched his wand spin for a few seconds on his palm and then stop, coming to a halt North again. Harry could be anywhere. He might still be somewhere in the castle or Quirrell could have taken him to South Africa. Snape didn’t know. He needed answers.

Snape gripped his wand tight again and kneeled back down beside Draco. “Sorry son. This might hurt.” He pointed his wand at Draco’s head and incanted, “Enervate.”

Draco’s whole body convulsed. Severus laid a calming had on his Godson’s chest to keep him steady. Suddenly Draco’s eyes flew open and he breathed in gulps of air like he had previously been suffocating for hours.

“Draco,” Daphne cried, “it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re alright.”

Hermione simply continued stroking Draco’s hair until he seemed to calm down enough to focus on the world in front of him.

Snape’s hand still pushed down on Draco’s chest, unwilling to give up touching the boy in any way he could. It was as if he wanted to ground the boy in reality when he himself felt like he was floating away. “Draco, can you hear me?”

Pale gray eyes flashed in Severus’s direction. Draco looked mildly confused for a long moment before sudden, horrified clarity graced his face. “Snape.”

Severus was careful to keep his facial expressions calm, but inside he was a mess of emotions.

“Draco, we can’t find Harry,” Hermione unexpectedly cried. Draco’s eyes spotted her’s above him, amidst all the curly hair, before turning back to Severus.

“He was taken,” Draco whispered, his whole demeanor seeming to be just on the verge of panic. The sleeping spell might actually be helping in that regard.

“By Quirrell,” Snape asked, not letting his own panic show for fear of scaring the three children in front of him.

“N—“ Draco ceased whatever he was about to say, like he was afraid to continue in present company.

“What is it,” Severus asked, urging him to continue. Whatever it was seemed important. “You can tell me Draco. You can tell me anything, I promise.”

Three sets of eyes— one blue, one brown, one gray— stared up at him and he stared right back, pouring all of himself into making them believe him, making Draco believe him.

The longest ten seconds of Snape’s life ended when Draco finally said, “Not just Quirrell.”

Snape froze and he felt all the breath leave his body in one fell swoop. He could feel his face pale beyond that which seemed possible.

“No.”

“He— he was—” Draco couldn’t seem to get the words out and Severus understood.

“He was here?”

Hermione crinkled her brow in confusion and Daphne tilted her head at the two wizards in question.

“They took him to get a— a stone?”

Severus blinked. Of course. “Why would they need Harry for that? Or maybe… Oh fuck.” They were going to kill Harry when Voldemort returned to power. He was finally going to make that sixth horcrux. Today.

“Professor,” Hermione reprimanded, almost as if it were instinct to do so. Severus refused to even acknowledge the gasped word and Hermione let him. She knew there were more important things to worry about than a professor cursing in front of a student, even if she didn’t know the full extent as to just how worried she should be.

“Snape,” Draco said breathlessly, and Severus immediately returned his attention to the boy who was quickly losing focus again. 

Severus leaned over his godson and brought a hand to the boy’s cheek. “What,” he asked, shaking the boy’s face ever so slightly when the blonde’s eyes started rolling back into his head. “Stay with me. You’re about to fall asleep again, but you need to stay with me a little longer. What were you going to say?”

Draco exhaled a long tired breath and Severus leaned is as close as possible to hear the boy faintly whisper a final, “Save… Harry…”

Snape snapped back so he could see his Godson’s face as the boy drifted back to sleep. “Always,” he promised, the word so soft it seemed to float through the air and drift through Draco’s ear canal, permeating his last bit of consciousness with that singular vow. Snape wasn’t even sure if he had said it aloud for when he straightened back up neither of the girl’s acknowledged it.

He surged to his feet with a sense of determination. He quickly pointed his wand at Quirrell’s bulletin board and transfigured it into a stretcher. Snape placed the stretcher on the ground beside Draco and carefully lifted the boy onto it. Hermione and Daphne watching wordlessly.

“Get him to the infirmary,” Snape ordered. “Do not stop. Pomfrey will make him comfortable. Then make sure you contact his father immediately.” 

Knowing Sirius, he was probably already on his way.

“Sir, where are you going,” Daphne asked finally, jumping into a standing position before Snape could leave.

On his way out the door, he replied, “I’m going to save Harry Potter.”

***

Sirius couldn’t look at him. He looked everywhere else but at the unconscious blonde in the hospital bed. He looked at Hermione Granger with her wide, honey-colored eyes full of fear. At Daphne Greengrass whose ice queen facade had melted away with worry. At Poppy who flitted around the room with a practiced ease, pulling potions from cupboards and spreading clean sheets tightly over one of the hospital beds… a cot for Harry.

Sirius had to remind himself to breathe. He stood in the middle of this chaos like a statue, hardly moving an inch since Daphne explained the situation. It was as if time had stopped for Sirius but nobody else. He felt slow, like he was waiting endlessly for something that might never happen. But he would wait forever.

He watched the doors.

Nothing.

Sirius had no idea how long he stood there. Nor how long it had been since he glanced down at his watch in the middle of the Wizengamot meeting and sprinted from the room as if he were being chased by a thousand dragons. He couldn’t recall exactly what time it was when he slinked through the tunnels under the school grounds to emerge near the one-eyed-witch statue or when his son’s scent lead him to the Hospital wing where Draco was a pale body collapsed on one of Madame Pomfrey’s hospital wing cots. The nurse had been running tests over his body and acknowledged Sirius’s presence with an unsurprised nod of her head while Daphne described the events of that afternoon with a hurried urgency that ended with her huddled into her friend’s arms watching the bed where Draco Sirius Black lay unconscious.

Sirius couldn’t lay eyes on that bed. Not yet. He felt like his heart was on fire.

He watched the door.

Sometimes one of Draco’s friends would enter the infirmary, get the lowdown from Daphne and then leave again. Sirius never figured out why they left. Perhaps Pomfrey limited visitors to three. Or maybe the first years just didn’t want to take up too much room in the hospital wing. But Daphne and Hermione were the only two who stayed the entire time, wrapped up in each other’s arms, wound tighter than a bow string. And they too watched the door, waiting for someone specific to walk though.

And then, there he was, the man he had considered his enemy for nine years and his friend for nearly twelve, the man who saved him more times than he could count, who displayed feats of magic that brought joy to Sirius’s life, who laughed before he smiled, who offered to pour the whiskey when Padfoot and Moony were already too pissed to do so, who could never replace James Fleamont Potter, could never replace Prongs, but who made a place for himself in Sirius’s heart all on his own.

And in Snape’s arms was Harry Potter.

Sirius couldn’t believe it. Not that he thought Severus would fail to bring Harry back. He had no doubts that he would. But to see this scene unfold again was heartbreaking. Just like ten years previously, Sirius Black, if he understood Daphne’s story correctly, had nearly lost his children at the hands of Tom Riddle and was shocked into silence as Severus held a small Harry to his chest. Things were supposed to be different. A decade had passed and Sirius felt as if nothing had changed, that they were right back where this all started. He desperately wanted to crumble at the thought.

A long time ago, Sirius, Severus, and Remus had made plans so that this wouldn’t happen. They were supposed to have protected everyone by keeping their many secrets. Their lies were suppose to keep them all safe.

How can this be happing? How is it that we have made almost no progress in ten years? The only difference between then and now is my age. His last thought before a familiar set of extravagant robes came waltzing into the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey shuffled Daphne and Hermione out with a promise that they could return before curfew to see their friends was, This isn’t working.

Sirius had always been an act-first, ask-questions-later kind of person. He always assumed this was the wrong way to approach life, but the approach he had been using for the last decade of overthinking and planning every tiny detail until he and his friends were tangled into a web of secrets and lies wasn’t working.

So fuck it.

“Expelliarmus.” Dumbledore’s wand came zooming out of those bright purple robes and launched itself across the room, landing some twenty meters away. Sirius didn’t wait to gouge the ancient wizard’s reaction. He held up his wand and stared directly into Albus’s blue eyes. “Get. Out.”

His words were like ice, like all the warmth had left the room and he could spit his words like jagged shards of glass. He only vaguely noticed the others in the room suck in a breath and hold it, as if making even the smallest of sounds in this situation would be a criminal and dangerous act. But his focus remained firmly on Albus Dumbledore.

The older wizard looked as if he had recovered from the loss of his wand and opened his mouth to say something, but Sirius was quick to cut him off at the head. “Get out,” he repeated. “Get out. Get out, get out, get out, get out— GET OUT!”

Sirius hadn’t realized he had stepped closer to Dumbledore with each utterance of those two words, nor that he had changed into Padfoot and the last “get out” was nothing more than an agonizing, bone-shattering howl, until Albus decided to open his mouth again and Sirius leapt at the wizard without a care for his own wellbeing. Dumbledore was knocked to the hard tiled ground and Padfoot stepped over the man, his large Grim-like paws holding the headmaster’s shoulders down, his snout snapping threateningly in Albus’s face with a growl that could force a lesser man to soil himself. Finally the great Albus Dumbledore showed a hint of fear in those sanctimonious eyes and Sirius couldn’t help but grin wolfishly, showing off all his canine teeth.

Perhaps this wasn’t the right course of action or the smartest strategy, but Sirius Black had never been more angry in his life and if he couldn’t take down the man that threatened his son’s life and left his godson for dead (he could only assume that Harry was still alive as he would expect nothing less of Severus Snape but to keep his word that he would protect Harry Potter with his life), then he would take it out on whoever he deemed worthy. Voldemort wasn’t here. So filling in for him would be the wizard who put all their lives in danger by practically inviting the madman back into their lives. 

Sirius felt himself shift back into his human form and he stared down at the headmaster with piercing silver eyes. “This is not a game,” he snarled, his grin turning almost feral. “We are not chess pieces on a board. You don’t get to play us like marionettes with you as the puppeteer pulling the strings. You not only put the lives of my son and my godson in jeopardy with your foolishness, but every single person at this school, you bloody imbecile! These are lives you are playing with— people, Albus— and if you think you can get away with this by claiming it’s all for the GREATER GOOD—“ 

Sirius could feel his throat closing up, the saliva building up in his mouth, and he knew if he didn’t stop this speech now, he would surely puke all over the famous wizard and faint from the lack of oxygen to his brain. So he held back on further screams, all his anger fading to a sudden case of depression anyway. Sirius closed his eyes and fell back onto his knees, releasing Dumbledore from his hold. He got to his feet, and numbly headed to the other side of the room. He leaned down and grabbed the headmaster’s wand, stiffly walking back to the newly upright wizard. His heart was protesting as he held out the wand to Albus in offering.

Sirius swallowed around the bile in his throat. “P-please just get out,” Sirius managed to choke out and knowing he sounded utterly defeated and lost added a hopeless, “Just leave me alone.”

Once the wand was safely back in the palm of its owner, Sirius turned around and never glanced back to see if Dumbledore did as he asked. He simply walked over to his son’s bedside and smoothed a stray strand of white blonde hair from the boy’s forehead. He turned to Severus who stood nearby with a still unconscious Harry in his arms. “Is he—“

“He’s okay,” Severus assured him, before setting the brunette down on the cot that Poppy indicated with a simple wave of her hand, the one she had set up right next to Draco’s with a conjured chair between them. Sirius nodded at Severus and felt as if he could breathe again. He took a seat in the chair and gripped the lifeless hands of both his sons in each of his own, holding on for dear life as if he could force some of his own spirit into the bodies of his children. He closed his eyes.

“Would you like me to leave,” he heard Severus mumble, and Sirius couldn’t help but snort at the idea. 

When he opened his eyes, all he could see was the dark abyss of Snape’s pupils hidden behind dark hair that he hadn’t bothered to tame. His expression was one of desperate sorrow. Sirius hadn’t the energy to conjure a chair for his friend, so he simply tilted his head in the direction of one across the room, a room he noticed was distinctly void of a certain ancient sorcerer. “You saved him,” Sirius said finally even though that was far from what he wanted to say. “Come sit with me.”

The glassiness of Severus’s eyes mirrored his own and Sirius tried his best to keep the tears at bay as Snape pulled up a chair to sit across from him. After a long period of time, once Pomfrey had slipped out to retrieve some of the Wideye potions from Snape’s cupboards, Severus whispered, “I didn’t.”

The two whispered words might as well have been yelled for all the effect it had on Sirius. He glanced up quickly. “Didn’t what?”

He could hear Severus audibly gulp. “Save him,” he answered, his voice a dull thrum in the now quiet hospital wing. There was a long bout of silence as Sirius waited for his friend to explain. Because there was an explanation. There always was with Severus Snape. 

“It was Lily.”

Sirius gasped and his eyes flooded over with tears. Severus, too, was crying now and it was awful and beautiful at the same time as Snape continued to expound between sobs, “She was there. I could feel her when I found his body. Her magic was all around me and I knew that she saved him. She saved her son a second time when I couldn’t. She saved him from Voldemort— again.”

“How?” The question was rhetorical because they may never know how exactly Lily’s spell worked, or how it could still work after all these years. He was just immensely grateful that it did. “So Quirrell… was he there,” Sirius asked instead.

Snape nodded his head. “His body, yes. I think— I think Harry killed him. Accidentally of course, with Lily’s help, just like when he was a baby. I don’t know what became of you-know-who.”

Sirius ignored the use of you-know-who. If it made Snape feel better at this moment to use it, like it did for Sirius after Andy and Ted’s funeral, then he wouldn’t comment on it. “Do you think Lily’s spell would work again,” Sirius asked.

Severus shook his head. “The original spell was a sacrifice. I think the only reason it worked now is because we bolstered it for over a decade by giving Harry a home. It might work again in another ten years,” Snape reasoned. “We should get Remus’s opinion on that.

Sirius felt his arms give out with the grief and he cradled his head in his hands as he let it all out. This happened exactly the same as before. Everything, all of it. Even down to Lily’s miraculous protection of her son.

His eyes peeked out to his left. Harry James Potter, a boy with a great destiny sitting on his shoulders, a boy who had now defeated Voldemort twice with the help of his dead mother’s magic, a boy who should’ve known that the threat he faced as a child was still around to threaten him that evening. They should’ve told him.

Sirius twisted his head to right. Draco Sirius Black, a boy who never got to know his mother, not even in stories, which were mostly all falsified by Sirius and Severus to protect Draco from the truth about his true parentage, a boy who hadn’t seen his Godfather’s true face until this year and still didn’t know that Steven Prince and Severus Snape were one and the same, a boy who should’ve been told from the start about his adoption. They should’ve told him.

Sirius looked up at Severus, his eyes still leaking but his sobs quiet. “We should’ve told them,” Sirius whispered, his voice full of dread.

Sev looked from Sirius to Draco to Harry and back to Sirius again. It was a long bout of silence before Severus’s eyes began to clear as he considered Sirius’s statement. Finally he nodded his head in understanding and looked up at Sirius with a sense of determination in his gaze. Sirius knew what his friend was going to say before he said it, and his blood ran cold in his veins at the thought. 

“We should tell them now,” Severus said.

Sirius rarely felt fear like this, but right then, he was terrified. Losing someone because of death was not a new feeling for Sirius and although he had said in the past that he wouldn’t be able to cope if another person he loved died, he could probably live through the pain knowing that one day he would join them in the afterlife. But if Draco and Harry, his sons, his children— if he lost them because Sirius fucked up ten years ago, if they looked at him like Sirius looked at Peter during his trial at the beginning of this school year, if he lost them because he betrayed their trust… Sirius wouldn’t be able to live with himself. But they had to do this.

We have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Okay, so I was going to write the whole scene with Harry and Voldemort with the Mirror of Erised and the stone and everything. But it was already a pretty heavy chapter and I just didn’t feel like getting into it. I’ll probably reference it quite a bit when it’s Harry’s POV next though. So let me know if you have any questions about that scene that you really want to be answered considering Harry’s new backstory. I will be more than glad to clear things up if you need them, even if I have to include an annoying flashback.
> 
> I really hope you liked this chapter though. Please let me know. We’re getting really close to the end of book 1 and I just really want to make sure everyone is enjoying the differences and similarities between the events of the original Harry Potter series and Draco Sirius Black, before I start mapping out book 2. I would greatly appreciate any feedback.
> 
> Alright then, love you. :)


	28. 1:28- The Truth, Draco

“…ry Potter is still in a coma at St. Mungo’s, though we’ve been told by the mediwizards that Mr. Potter will make a full recovery. We can only rejoice that our savior did not suffer the same fate as his late professor last Saturday. Quirinus Quirrell, age 51, was a well respected— hmm…“

“Keep reading, Theo.”

Theo looked up from today’s issues of the Daily Prophet. “It’s just more of the same, Hermione. They don’t know what happened and I really don’t think we want to hear about how well respected the Professor was again.”

Hermione huffed and curled herself further into the window seat, staring at the cloudy view that stretched endlessly beyond Hogsmeade in the distance. She thought the weather matched her mood a little too well. 

Theo was right. She really didn’t want to listen to that nonsense about Quirrell anymore.

“He kidnapped Harry,” Daphne said. She’d stated this as a fact numerous times over the last week. But the thing was, Daphne couldn’t know this for certain. Hermione and Daphne simply overheard a vague, confusing, and stunted conversation between Draco and Snape. They could only try their best to infer what those few sentences of dialogue meant. Stating anything as fact would be dishonest. It was deeply frustrating.

“We believe you about Quirrell,” Neville firmly stated. And they did too. No one in the group particularly liked Quirrell, so they believed Daphne’s conjecture whole-heartedly. Hermione believed it as well; she just chose not to make definitive statements. “What we don’t understand is why the Daily Prophet reporters are choosing to make him into a hero.”

“Harry’s in a coma,” Hermione sighed. “He’s the only one that really knows the truth of it…” Hermione shrugged and returned to melancholily staring out the window. “They probably just don’t want to panic our parents.”

Ron nodded his head in agreement. “My mum and dad certainly stopped fretting as much after the first Daily Prophet article came out on Wednesday. They still worry, but they always do, so nothing’s new there. And they don’t ever read the Quibbler, even if this time, for once, it might be more accurate,” explained Ron.

Next to Hermione, she watched as Susan squeezed this week’s Quibbler, which she’d read to them a few minutes ago, tightly in her fist, crushing it and wrinkling the pages. “There is no way this is the truth,” Susan cried, flinging the issue suddenly across the room and charging to her feet with a passion. “There is no way!” When nobody spoke up to agree with her, Susan sagged back into the window seat beside Hermione. “It can’t be true… right?”

Susan sounded so tiny right then and Hermione couldn’t blame her. What was written on the front page of the paper the Hufflepuff just tossed across the little alcove they’d commandeered that Saturday afternoon had been terrifying. But the Quibbler article was written by Naomi Greengrass, so while the periodical itself didn’t have much validity, Daphne’s mum didn’t seem like a person who lied in order to shock people into buying more issues of their rubbish paper.

“It can’t be true…” Susan whimpered again.

“The article makes sense though,” Daphne reasoned. “It aligns with what Draco said before he passed out, what he told Snape. He said Quirrell took Harry to get a stone. It could have been the Sorcerer’s Stone that my mum mentioned in her article. And Quirrell could have been getting the stone to help resurrect You-Know-Who,” Daph finished, her voice growing weaker with every word she spoke. She clearly didn’t like saying things like this out loud.

“Could have. You keep saying could,” Susan pointed out. When this didn’t garner a response, the redhead sighed deeply and curled her legs up, hugging her knees close to her body. She looked small and fragile like that, Hermione noticed, so different from the vibrant girl that once instigated a food fight in the Great Hall and happily served her detention by helping the House Elves clean up the resulting mess.

“That’s because I don’t know for certain,” Daphne stated finally, sounding just as brow-beaten and worried.

There was a long bout of silence and everyone was surprised when Hannah was the one to break it. “Neville, have you heard from your parents at all?”

Neville’s father had been head of the Auror team that came to Hogwarts this past week to investigate the events surrounding Quirrell’s death and Harry’s comatose state. He hadn’t been able to uncover much as far as the children were aware. His auror statement to the public and the reporters was as follows:

“First and foremost, I would like to say that at present time things involving the how and why of Harry Potter’s condition and Quirinus Quirrell’s death are unclear. We should know more once Mr. Potter awakes and gives his statement. What we can say is that the professor and student were found by Severus Snape in a cavern under the school, at precisely 13:35 on Saturday, 6th of June, 1992. The potion’s professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was made aware of his student’s absence by fellow first-year student, Draco Black. Mr. Black could not be reached for comment and is currently in the care of his father, Lord Sirius Black, until further notice. Any further questions can be directed to the Head of the DMLE, Madam Bones. Thank you.”

This statement had been directly quoted in every Wizarding magazine and Newspaper in the country, and then began the speculations. The Daily Prophet had clearly decided on telling the public their own, sweet, self-sacrificing narrative, a narrative in which Quirrell found out about Harry Potter’s unsafe curiosity with Hogwarts’s forbidden third floor corridor and went after the boy to rescue him. They suspect that whatever the two had encountered down in the cavern, Quirrell had saved his student from taking the worst of it and died in the process. Hermione had to admit, The Daily Prophet had decided on an interesting theory. That is, if you didn’t particularly know Quirrell very well. For a Defense Against the Dark Art’s professor, he didn’t seem like someone who would go out of their way to protect anyone except himself.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was the Quibbler’s narrative, a much darker take on what might have happened between Harry Potter and Quirinus Quirrell five stories beneath the school. Much of Naomi Greengrass's theory in her article had to do with another unusual auror investigation that occurred this past week, this one lead by Alice Longbottom’s team. It involved the mysterious and sudden deaths of Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle on Wednesday.

It was known that the reason the Flamels had lived for over six hundred years had much to do with Nicholas’s invention of the Sorcerer’s Stone, an elixir that kept the husband and wife youthful throughout the centuries. It must have been destroyed recently, and the Flamel’s lost their vitality and died. Hermione did a lot of research on the stone and it’s properties after she heard the news. She read that the stone had been entrusted to the goblins at Gringotts in 1969. She also found out that Nicholas and Dumbledore were good friends. It stood to reason that when Gringott’s was robbed at the beginning of the school year, Flamel might have enlisted the help of Dumbledore to keep the stone safe elsewhere. And why not hide it one of the most heavily fortified schools in the world? There was no safer place.

Hermione was starting to doubt that boastful declaration now. Hogwarts didn’t feel quite so safe anymore.

Anyway, the Quibbler’s running narrative was that Quirrell wanted the stone and Harry had followed his professor into the passageway and down into the cavern when the older wizard started acting suspicious. Their story also unsubtly alluded to the fact that Quirrell didn’t want the stone for himself, but to help resurrect You-Know-Who. This was where many thought the article went beyond speculation into full-blown Quibbler-variety conspiracy theory.

Hermione knew both papers got it wrong, but even though the Quibbler’s theory was terrifying to even consider, at least they weren’t making Quirrell into some kind of hero. Hermione knew for a fact Quirrell was anything but.

But she wasn’t sure what to make of Professor Snape. 

His statement to Frank Longbottom had clearly been very straightforward. He’d left out a lot of details and that confused Hermione. She’d been there when Snape had searched for Draco and Harry with a a fearful fervor. She’d watched as Snape delicately laid an unconscious Draco on the floor and later as he kept the blonde steady after performing the painful spell to wake him. She’d heard Snape audibly plead with them to trust him. And she’d believed Snape when he said that he was going to save Harry. The dichotomy between the frenzied professor she witnessed last Saturday and the smooth, man of few words in Mr. Longbottom’s report was why Hermione was having such a hard time wrapping her brain around the enigma that was her potion’s professor. She couldn’t make heads or tails of which Snape was the real one.

The news media clearly had no idea what to make of Professor Snape either. It was evident in the way that few articles even bothered to mention him.

Neville shook his head at Hannah’s question, bringing Hermione back to the present. “My parent’s have been busy.”

Everyone hummed in understanding.

“Has anyone heard from Draco,” Hermione asked, a twinge of hopefulness in her tone that she hated to hear. Sirius had taken Draco home last Sunday once Harry had been transferred to St. Mungo’s. She hadn’t heard from her friend all week.

A quiet fell over the group once more. Hermione took their silence as a resounding “No”. She resumed staring out the window.

“Draco said ‘they’ took him,” Hermione suddenly voiced, not bothering to look away from the gray sky, the color familiar and sad, but lovely all the same. She continued to voice her thoughts aloud as if she were the only person around. “That probably means there was another wizard down there with them. So where did he go? And who was he?”

If the Quibbler was right then— Hermione stopped that train of thought immediately before she could finish it. She really hoped the Quibbler wasn’t right.

She sighed into the silence as everyone seemed to consider her questions. They should have been revising for their exams. But really, who cared about school work anyway? Apparently, there were far more important things for a group of first year Hogwarts students to worry about.

Hermione wished she could just go back to caring about her grades, though.

***

“…twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty! Ready or not, here I come!”

A four-year-old Draco uncovered his eyes and began his search. Harry Potter was in this house somewhere. He looked under tabletops and in cupboards. He checked the porch even though going outside was against the rules. He climbed the stairs and searched each of their rooms, every nook and cranny. He opened the door to his father’s study (also against the rules) and looked under the desk. He headed back downstairs and checked the kitchen. Corey shook his head and Draco knew Harry wasn’t there. He walked into the living room where his Uncle Steven was reading by the fireplace. Draco narrowed his eyes at the room, wondering if his brother would deign to disturb their uncle’s peace. Probably not.

Where could he be?

Draco turned around to leave only to bump into the family drink cart, a very expensive-looking set of glassware toppling to the hardwood floor creating loud, cringe-worthy crashes that had Draco panicking. He brought a hand to his mouth as if he could muffle the sound of glass shattering like the noise was being torn from his own throat. After what felt like hours of awkward silence, Draco finally spun around and found his Godfather staring up at him from his place upon the couch, his book laying forgotten on the sofa. He raised a thin brown eyebrow.

“Uh…” Draco tried to smile apologetically, but he knew his lips didn’t quite quirk up enough. His heart was racing.

Steven stood from the sofa and made his way closer to Draco, inspecting the damage with a critical eye. He stooped down and shifted the broken glass shards around with his wand before standing straight once more and glancing at Draco.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” Draco blurted out, the beating in his chest growing louder and louder. He could barely hear his apologies over the roaring in his ear drums. “I didn’t mean to— I didn’t—“ His words cut off as a sob escaped his throat. He was about to cry, and his cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I’m so—“

A calloused warm hand caressed Draco’s four-year old cheek and the blonde’s gray eyes flickered up to meet his Godfather’s. There was a soft, gentle grin on the older wizard’s lips, and he stroked Draco’s pale skin with the pad of his thumb comfortingly. “Shh…”

Draco hadn’t realized he’d still been crying throughout this encounter and he quickly quieted as his godfather wiped a tear from his cheek. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

Steven chuckled drily. “It’s okay, Draco. See.”

Draco watched as his uncle, without taking his eyes off his Godson, lazily waved his wand at the broken shards, a silent spell pulling the pieces back together until they were whole once more. Draco watched, mesmerized as the glass crystalized in front of him, floating there for a few seconds longer before Steven snatched the reformed tumblers from the air and placed them back on the drink cart.

“As those glasses were the only thing your father took from his family home, I suspect they are quite important to him,” Steven explained, leading Draco over with an arm around his shoulder to view the mended glasses as he continued his speech. “My magic repaired them, but they are no longer perfect.”

“I’m really sorry,” Draco whispered, but anyone could tell the blonde was still in awe of the magic he had just been shown.

Steven laughed then, loud and hearty and Draco looked up at his godfather in wonder. “Oh don’t worry kid, your dad will never even notice the difference. He’ll still be able to drink out of them, won’t he?”

“Yes?” Draco seemed unsure of his answer, he knew, even to his own ears.

A large hand clamped down on Draco’s shoulder and he was shaken playfully, causing Draco to giggle. Steven lead his godson away from the drink cart and out into the hallway, laughing as well.

“We should move the cart away from the front door. Seems a silly place to put it now that I think on it,” Steven observed aloud.

“Are you going to tell my dad?”

Hazel eyes glanced down at Draco from his godfather’s substantial height. “Tell you what, it will be our secret.”

“Do you keep a lot of secrets, Uncle Steven?

Dark obsidian eyes blinked. “Yeah kid. I do.”

“Why,” Draco asked, his tinny voice much deeper than it was before.

“I have to.”

Draco glanced up again, noticing that he didn’t have to tilt his head as far back to reach his Godfather’s eyes. His uncle was shrinking… or Draco was growing taller. “Do you keep secrets from me?”

The man before him took a deep breath. “Yes,” he admitted on the exhale.

“Will you share them with me?”

“One day, Draco.”

“When?”

“As soon as it’s safe.” Draco nodded, though he didn’t really understand. “Do you believe me,” the man asked.

Now that, Draco could understand. He’d always trust his Godfather. “Of course, Uncle Steven.”

The older wizard’s smile returned. “Good. Now where is Harry?”

“We were playing hide-and-seek.”

“Oh, well then, I’ll just have to help you find him. And then we’ll go to Diagon Alley for ice cream, okay?” Steven lifted his Godson into his arms and kissed the boy’s temple. “Just don’t tell your dad when he and Remus return for dinner.”

“Another secret,” Draco asked, almost delighted at the notion.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Then, under his breath he muttered, ”I’ll add it to my extremely long list.”

Draco leaned his head on his Godfather’s shoulder, comfortable in the man’s embrace. “I can have chocolate ice cream, right?”

Severus Snape chuckled as he hugged his Godson closer to his side with one hand and checked the foyer wardrobe for Harry with the other. “Whatever you want.”

…

Draco startled awake from the dream with a jolt of adrenaline. His legs were tangled in the sweat-soaked sheets around his waist and he struggled to free them, labored panic rising in his throat. Thankfully his arms were free to flail a bit. He always kept his arms free now, even in sleep.

“Draco, shh… it’s okay, it’s okay…”

As his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the morning, Draco looked around frantically for the soothing voice. But when his gaze made contact with his father’s silver eyes, he quickly sought out the plainness of the white wall behind him. 

No eye contact. Habit.

Sirius rubbed comforting circles into Draco’s back while the blonde gathered his bearings. His father was careful to keep his touches unrestrained ever since his full embrace did nothing to calm Draco down when he startled awake after his first nightmare a week ago.

These dreams had plagued Draco these last seven days, and the unsettling thing about them was that they weren’t really nightmares. They were memories, usually mundane ones from his childhood. Every morning he would wake, panting with a fear that seeped through his every pore. The reason these memories terrified him so thoroughly was simply because they weren’t actively scary. It creeped him out that he was creeped out… if that made any sense.

Draco could feel his heartbeat slowly evening out and only when he felt brave enough did he return his attention to his dad.

“Okay?”

The sincerity in the question almost broke Draco but he nodded his head in response. He wasn’t okay though. Not really.

Sirius nodded back. His hand slid up to Draco’s hair and he gently pulled the blonde’s head forward until his temple rested against Sirius’s own. His father’s eyes were closed as they remained in that position for some time, simply breathing the air between them, soaking up the peace of the early morning. Only when Draco closed his eyes as well did he take the time to think about his latest memory.

He knew what it meant. He understood what the dream was trying to tell him. He had tried to ignore it, had desperately tried to convince himself that he was being silly, that his thoughts were simply running away with him again. 

But he knew. 

He knew, just like he’d known Ron’s rat was Peter Pettigrew. He knew, just like he’d known he would be sorted into Slytherin while his brother would be sorted into Gryffindor. He knew, just like he’d known his dad would find his way into Hogwarts any way he could that Halloween night. He knew, just like he knew Charlie, Bill, and Rosmerta would never leave the family now that they were a part of it. He knew, just like he’d known a week ago that he’d been helpless to save Harry, that he wasn’t quick enough to protect him against Quirrell, that he was trapped and powerless under the thumb of Voldemort’s control to do with as the monster pleased.

He knew. 

He knew Steven Prince and Severus Snape were one and the same.

Sirius took one last long breath, as if he were filing his nostrils with Draco’s scent, keeping it safe inside his lungs, before gently pulling away. Draco knew he’d been quiet this past week. He had barely uttered a word, had not explained what occurred in the DADA classroom, nothing. He was sure his father had his suspicions, but he never pried for answers. He was waiting until Draco was ready.

“Well, now that you’re awake, what do you say we get ready and spend another day watching Harry sleep, yeah?” He said it with a hint of humor in his voice and Draco couldn’t help but quirk his lips up into a small grin. They’d spent every day for a week doing this very thing and Draco was fairly certain it was because his dad didn’t know what else to do. “Maybe Remus will stop buying lunch in the hospital’s cafe, the rubbish—“

“Dad,” Draco interrupted. “Will Steven be there?”

Sirius froze, his hand poised over the handle of Draco’s bedroom door. He didn’t turn back around when he carefully answered, “No, not yet.”

“Why not?” Draco knew he sounded cold, detached, but he had made up his mind and he wasn’t going to let hesitation seep into his words.

Slowly, so very slowly, Sirius stepped away from the door. His hand twitched out of it’s frozen state but he clearly had no idea how to position it, so it hung stiffly at his side. He finally spun around to face Draco. “He’s— He can’t.”

“Where is he?”

Sirius gasped as if Draco’s question had physically punched him in the gut. Every muscle in his body screamed with tension and Draco watched as Sirius’s eyes clouded with tears. Sirius took a breath, opened his mouth to speak, but came up short. After a long moment, he finally croaked out, “I— He— I can’t, Draco… Please, I promised— I promised I would never lie to you again, but please… Can it wait? J-just wait and ask again later—“

“He’s at Hogwarts,” Draco answered for him, finally letting his father know what he had been suspecting this past week. “He teaches potions. He’s head of Slytherin. You hate him—”

“I don’t.”

Those two words were everything. Sirius said them with such conviction that Draco immediately believed him. But it was also confirmation that Draco was right, that what he knew was true.

Draco surged to his feet, refusing to stay seated as rapid fire thoughts flitted through his mind. He paced and paced, knowing Sirius remained still and simply watched him.

“If—“ His sentence was cut off quickly with a rogue sob he hadn’t realized had been brewing while he’d paced. Draco rubbed at his nose, his arm coming away wet. He twisted around and stared up at his father and finally managed to ask what he so feared to ask. “If Steven is Snape, then how did he know my mum?”

Sirius Black looked as if Draco had stabbed him in the chest. He looked broken, weathered, old. Draco had never seen his dad look so completely destroyed in every way possible and suddenly very much wished he could take back his question, anything to take that painful fractured look off his father’s face. 

But he’d said it. It was too late.

Draco exhaled in disbelief at how drastically his life had changed in such a short amount of time. Fred and George would most definitely not still believe Draco to be a seer after this. Because Draco hadn’t known. He clearly had no idea who his mother was. He had no idea who his Godfather was. He didn’t even know who his dad was, because the man in front of Draco looked nothing like him right now. He didn’t even vaguely resemble the Sirius Black who Draco had known his whole life. He couldn’t look at this stranger a moment longer.

Draco ran past Sirius and bolted out the door, running, running, trying to get the broken wizard he’d just met out of his mind, trying to block out that image in his head. He never wanted to see that person again.

He sprinted down to the ground floor and spotted the cupboard under the staircase. He scrambled toward it and slipped into the cosy darkness, his longer legs having to curl up against his chest in the cramped space. 

He hid.

He wasn’t sure how long it was— minutes, hours, maybe even days— but suddenly the cupboard door opened a fraction of an inch, allowing a sliver of light into the tiny room. There was a sigh from the other side of the door and when Draco’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, he could make out Sirius’s form framed through the small crack. He sat on the floor with his back leaning against the wall, and his silver eyes focused on nothing in the distance.

“Did I ever tell you about the day you were born?”

Draco blinked and focused all of his attention on his father’s voice, so achingly Sirius in every possible way. What a relief. Draco didn’t answer the question and simply waited for his dad to continue.

Sirius chuckled as if lost in the memory. “Well, I woke up in St. Mungo’s… again. I’d been there for three weeks already. A death eater had gotten me during my last mission, cursing all of the bones out of my leg. I remember thinking it was the most painful experience of my entire life, laying there as the mediwitches poured skele-gro down my throat. It was awful, Draco, let me tell you. Three weeks of nonstop pain as my leg bones regrew, biting and stretching and aching… But then, on June, 5th 1980, I woke up, and there was no pain. You wouldn’t believe how relieved I was. Probably because I wasn’t really all that relieved.”

Draco shifted slightly, his muscles aching after so long cramped in the position he was in. But he didn’t dare make a sound, so enraptured he was by his father’s story that he couldn’t bare to disrupt him.

Sirius shrugged. “It’s silly now when I think on it, but at the time, I would have gladly continued going through all that pain if it meant I didn’t have to go home, go back to my empty flat, go back to only seeing James and Lily every so often instead of every day like I had been for the last three weeks. I wasn’t allowed to return to active hit wizard duty for another two months while my bones set and strengthened. So, I was simply to sit in my house, bored out of my fucking skull.

“I remember praying that morning that the universe give me a life worth living. And when James and Lily visited St. Mungo’s later that day, my prayers came true. I didn’t have to go back to my flat, because the Potters decided they were taking me in. I would get to live with them for two whole months. I was so happy. James would make family dinners and keep me updated on everything going on at work. We’d always been close, like brothers, so stepping into that way of life again was like stepping into a memory. We grew closer than we ever knew possible. And during the days, Lily, who was seven months pregnant with Harry, would show me bits of the muggle world. Television and books and music. I grew to love her so much and she grew to love me as well. She was my sister just as much as James was my brother, and I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be a part of their family, however briefly. When the two months were almost up, I remember thinking that this was as good as it would ever get for me, that those two months of domesticity, of growing vegetables in the garden that James could prepare later when he returned from work, of taking Lily to the cinema and watching her put nacho cheese on popcorn since that was what Harry was apparently craving… I thought, this is the happiest I will ever be.

“But I was wrong. I was so wrong, Draco. Because the day I first held you in my arms and every day after that, every day I get to see you, talk to you, help you learn, watch you grow, every day I get to call you my son… Those have been the happiest days of my life. And the pain I felt as my bones reformed in that hospital bed, it doesn’t compare to the pain I feel when I see you cry, or the pain in my chest as fear grips my heart tight when I feel you’re in danger. I’m thankful every single day that your mum brought you to me, so that I could understand what real happiness feels like, so that I could start a family of my own. I love her so much for trusting me to provide a home for you and I can only hope that I didn’t fail her.”

With parted lips, Draco watched, a captivated audience of one, as his father wiped tears from his eyes before continuing.

“So I’ll tell you about her now, because you deserve to know the truth.” Sirius took a deep breath before proceeding, and Draco readied himself as well for a truth he wasn’t sure he’d really want to hear. “Her name was Narcissa,” Sirius began, and what a beginning it was. It was official. Sirius and Steven, and probably Remus, had lied to him his whole life about who his mother was. It stung, but not quite as much as Draco thought it might. Perhaps that was because his dad was explaining it all now with tear-stained cheeks and hollow eyes. Draco couldn’t quite find it in himself to be angry when his dad looked so desperately sad.

“Narcissa was the youngest in her family after two older sisters, Bellatrix and Andromeda.” Draco blinked at the names, but he didn’t have a chance to think them over as Sirius continued on, rushing to get out anything he could remember of Draco’s mum, as if he’d opened the floodgates and nothing was going to be held back. “Her golden blonde hair and clear blue eyes meant she looked much more like her mother than her father. On her fifth birthday, she told her cousin that she would one day grow up and become a dragon tamer. He told her that she was too dainty. She spat in his face.

“At age eleven, she went to Hogwarts. She was sorted into Slytherin. Her favorite class was Care of Magical Creatures. She absolutely loathed potions. Sometimes, when she felt particularly giddy, she’d claim to make a great Hufflepuff. I think she just really wanted Professor Sprout to be her Head of House. The summer before her fifth year, her father told her she was no longer to speak to her cousin, who was soon to be disowned. She agreed but disobeyed his orders almost immediately after school commenced. She needed help on her Transfiguration essay and her cousin was good at Transfiguration.

“A few months after she graduated, she married Lucius Malfoy. The wedding, I hear, was extravagant. I could only imagine since I wasn’t invited. And even if I was, I wouldn’t have attended anyway. I hated Malfoy. But, I think Narcissa loved him. For a long time I wondered how anyone could love a Malfoy, but thinking back on it, Narcissa was amazing for being someone who could. She always saw the best in people, accepted others’ faults with a simplicity that baffled the mind. Maybe I’m overestimating her in this regard. Perhaps these qualities I saw in her have been exaggerated by time and consideration. And maybe not. I truly do believe Narcissa could find the good qualities hidden in the depths of anyone, and that she could bring them to the surface to be presented to the rest of the world. She certainly saw the best in me. So she probably could have done the same for Lucius if given the time. But, unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy was a dangerous man to love. The day she discovered she was pregnant was the day she found out just how dangerous Lucius Malfoy and his associates were. She overheard a Death Eater meeting, one that scared her deeply. Had she never found out, I think she would have happily stayed married to Lucius, been a Malfoy, and raised her son with him. But to keep you there in Malfoy Manor, amongst Death Eaters, was to risk your life, and she couldn’t let that happen. 

“She loved you more than anything, even when you were nothing more than a positive pregnancy spell. So she vowed to spend every waking second of the rest of her life making sure you were safe. With the help of Severus Snape and myself, though I didn’t know about my involvement until much later, Narcissa was able to escape and disappear to America.

“On June 5th, 1980 in New Orleans, Louisiana, she gave birth to a son who she named Draco Sirius Black. She studied numerous spells to make sure no one from her old life could ever find you, to make certain you would never come to harm. But, sadly, one of these spells backfired and sapped her life force. The day Narcissa showed up on Lily’s front porch, the day she explained her story to me, the day I adopted you without hesitation… that was the day Narcissa Black died in my arms—“

Draco startled at the sudden silence and he glanced up at his father through the crack in the door, surprised to see his dad staring right back at him with watery gray eyes. Sirius’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped.

“I buried my cousin a few days later in the Black Cemetery behind the family manor. You were in my arms. I had promised Narcissa that no one would ever know the truth about your parentage, so that you’d never end up the son of a Death Eater with no mother to keep you safe. I immediately broke that promise, risked it all, when I sought out Severus Snape. But I had to thank him for saving you, I had to apologize for how I acted at Hogwarts, and I had to name him your Godfather.

“Draco… I hope one day you’ll understand why I did what I did. All the secrets I’ve kept were meant to protect you and Harry and Severus and everyone I love. And perhaps it was wrong to raise you with such terrible lies dangling precariously above all our heads, but I can’t take it back. I can’t use a time-turner and see if a different path would lead to better results. I already chose this path. And you might not want to hear this, but I’m finding it terribly difficult to regret my decision right now. You grew up in a slightly unconventional family, but it was a normal childhood. I never wanted you to worry about Death Eaters or Voldemort or the dark arts or war. I hoped you’d never have to. And selfishly—” 

Sirius glanced away again, as if he couldn’t finish what he was about to say while looking into stormy gray eyes that peered out from the darkness of the cupboard. But then, Sirius seemed to think better of it and his head tilted back toward Draco.

“Selfishly, I never wanted you to think you weren’t my son and I wasn’t your father.”

Draco’s first instinct was to leap from the cupboards and wrap Sirius up tightly in his arms, to comfort him, to make sure he knew that he could never think such a thing. It was a good first instinct, but then, the doubt crept in. With all that he just heard, overwhelmed with all this new information, he needed time to think. So he restrained himself and remained in the cupboard.

Sirius smiled through the tears as if he knew exactly how Draco was feeling and he nodded his head in understanding. “Okay… Okay…” Sirius pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. “You’re probably not hungry, but it’s nearly suppertime and you haven’t eaten all day. I uh— I think I’ll go ask Corey to take you to see Harry. Is that alright? While I get supper fixed?”

For the first time, Draco made a move. He opened the door and nodded his head. He desperately wanted to see his brother.

“Okay… well, come on then,” Sirius said, as he got to his feet. He held out a hand, which Draco accepted, and hoisted the younger wizard up to his feet as well. The blonde swayed unsteadily, his legs tingling slightly after so much time not in use, but Sirius was careful not lay a hand on him without permission. It was clear Sirius was giving him space and Draco was both disappointed and grateful for it.

They both made their way to the kitchens in silence. Corey agreed to take Draco to St. Mungo’s immediately, and grabbed the boy’s hand. The son looked up at the father one last time, and Sirius smiled sadly. “Okay?”

The sincerity in the question almost broke Draco. It took a lot this time to nod his head in response. But once again, he wasn’t okay. Not really.

When Draco suddenly arrived in St. Mungo’s, Corey gave a comforting squeeze of the hand before letting go and taking a seat in the hallway outside Harry’s hospital room.

Remus must have been at the cafeteria, probably meeting up with Tonks to eat, since when Draco entered the hospital room, it was empty save for his comatose brother lying immobile in the cot.

Draco rubbed at his face. He sat down in the chair to the right of Harry’s cot. He stood up. He ran a hand through his hair. He walked to the window. He watched the sun set behind the trees. He watched Harry breathe in and out. He sat in the chair to the left of Harry’s bed. He waited.

“Harry.”

It was the first thing he’d said in nearly ten hours, and it’s all he could get out before he crumpled. He didn’t know what to say anyway, so he just let the tears run down his cheeks as he grabbed his brother’s hand and squeezed it, praying silently to whoever would listen that Harry would squeeze his hand back.

There was a long stretch of silence. Draco’s eyes drifted to a sketchbook on the nightstand. The tiny table was filled to the brim with well wishes, cards and boxes of sweets, all manner of love for Harry Potter from their schoolmates. But the sketchbook was Draco’s. It called out to him.

He let go of Harry’s cold palm and snatched it from the table, staring down at the first sketch in it for a long time. It took him three days, sitting beside Harry as he slept, to draw this thing in front of him. It was just something Draco did when he was restless. He sketched.

Draco wasn’t really any good at this art stuff. He was quite talented at a lot of things, but he had never excelled at drawing. If he had to describe his artistic abilities, at best he would say he was adequate. Anyone who saw the drawing of Harry Potter in his hands would agree with that statement.

Draco had tried to draw him in the midst of a laugh. He actually got the smile alright, but Harry’s posture in the drawing was less than to be desired. His arms were too long in comparison to his torso and Draco had never been very good at nailing the anomaly that was Harry’s unruly hair. The fact that it was constantly changing, every day curling in a different way, probably had a lot to do with it.

He smiled at the drawing despite it’s faults. Even though it only vaguely resembled Harry, Draco loved it anyway. He loved drawing Harry, because Harry was kind of perfect. Not even the best artists would be able to put that perfection on paper, so Draco could say he was just as good at drawing Harry as anyone else would be if they tried.

Draco let the pad of parchment fall limp in his hands as he stared over the top of it at his brother lying immobile in the hospital cot. All of a sudden, the drawing looked more alive than the Harry asleep in front of him.

Draco sighed. “Harry, listen, you git. I need you to wake up… Wake up.” Draco tossed the sketchbook back onto the nightstand, knocking over a stack of get well soon letters in the process, and nudged Harry with a sharp pointer finger. “Wake up and call me a prat.” Draco waited a beat knowing all the while that this would prove futile. You can’t just wake a person from a coma by sheer will alone. “Fine,” he sighed, resting his head on the cot beside Harry’s leg, muttering, “How about you wake up because I need you to be you for a second, okay? I need you tell me what to do… Tell me what to think, because I don’t— I don’t know what to think. And I’m worried I’m going to settle on the wrong thing. I’m going to dwell on something he told me, only for you to wake up and call me a prat for ever letting it bother me. Harry, I need your heart.”

Draco’s voice was so soft he was certain that even if Harry were conscious, he wouldn’t be able to understand what Draco whispered into St. Mungo’s starched bedsheets. But Draco continued anyway. “Tell me what I’m supposed to think,” he repeated. “About Snape. About my Mum. About— about how I draw when I’m scared. About how that sketchbook was his birthday gift to me, like he knew I would be frightened soon and would need it. I need you to tell me that he’s still my dad—“

Draco choked on his tongue, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“I need you… I need you to wake up and remind me that Sirius Black is, and always will be, our dad. Always… right?”

Right?

***

Severus Snape couldn’t find it in himself to cheer when Slytherin won the House Cup. Thankfully, he rarely ever cheered, so no one seemed to notice. 

Well… almost no one.

After the final breakfast feast while everyone returned to their dormitories to finish their packing before the Hogwarts Express would take them home, Severus slipped away, to bask in the silence of his empty classroom. He had been packed and ready to go home for so achingly long, and now it was almost time to do just that. He was so close to being free.

It had been a long two weeks. He knew he was being watched every second of every day— by Frank’s Auror team, by the media, by the students, and by Dumbledore. And because of this, he didn’t dare try to contact his family. He put himself in isolation, made himself as boring as possible, went about his days as if he had no life to speak of outside of Hogwarts. He did this because he couldn’t let anyone see him as anything but the surly potion’s (and part-time DADA) professor that was Severus Snape. He never knew if someone was watching him in order to report his movements back to Voldemort. And his master, wherever he was, could never find out who his most trusted Death Eater really was. Never, ever.

But he worried about his family constantly. From the papers he was able to gather that Harry Potter was still in a coma. The news terrified him immensely every time he read it. Surely, Harry should be awake by now. But that was really the only thing he was able to glean from the newspapers. There was never any mention of Remus, Sirius, Draco, Tonks, Bill, Charlie, or Rosmerta in the Daily Prophet, so he could only wonder how they were doing after the events of the Saturday two weeks previously. And he knew they couldn’t be well. Because he certainly wasn’t well.

Voldemort was back. Really back. And apparently Draco had seen him in the flesh.

He had been surprised to see Draco in Hogwarts this morning. Dumbfounded even. It had been so long since he’d seen a member of his family and he ached to hold him, talk to him, anything. As head of Draco’s house, he probably could have gotten away with speaking with the boy without causing suspicion, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t blatantly out him as someone who cared for Draco Black and Harry Potter deeply. So he didn’t.

What he gathered from overheard conversations from his fellow teachers and some of the students, however, was his Godson had returned to school for the end-of-term celebrations just to say goodbye to his friends and let them know that he was still alive and well. Upon seeing him, Severus deduced that Draco was alive, yes. But well? Unfortunately, no, not so much.

The blond twelve-year-old looked exhausted. His silver eyes were haunting, his hair disheveled. He went without his school robes, but he still had a Slytherin-house-crested sweater vest on. No one really cared, especially in the heat of summer, but he did look out of place amongst all the other students who were dressed in black robes.

Snape discretely watched Draco during the House Cup ceremonies, how he lost focus during the headmaster’s speech several times, how he never seemed to make eye contact with Daphne or Theo when they glanced at him with worry etched on their faces. You could practically see the numerous thoughts swirling around his head, dizzying. Severus’s heart ached for Draco.

Back in the classroom, Snape looked at the clock on the wall behind his desk and sighed. Three hours. Three hours and the school would be empty of students and he could go home. He glanced around the room to try to find something simple to busy himself with in the meantime, when he heard the door to his classroom creak open. When he glanced that way, he was met with the surprisingly vibrant, but still utterly confused and cautious gray eyes of his Godson.

Severus’s heart leapt in his chest and he glanced over Draco’s shoulder, but found that they were alone. The blonde stepped all the way into the room and the door clicked shut behind him. Snape instinctively cast a muffling charm on the room, so used to gray eyes and closed doors meaning Sirius was about to disclose a secret. He gasped when he realized his mistake, but Draco didn’t look confused anymore. Instead he smiled crookedly.

“Muffliato,” Draco muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll have to remember that one. And here I was thinking you guys were using a simple silencing charm this whole time.”

Severus blinked, but his shock quickly gave way to relief. He placed a repelling charm outside the door to his classroom so they wouldn’t be disturbed, before uttering, “So you know?”

“I know,” Draco confirmed, taking a hesitant step further into the room.

“And you are…” Severus paused for a second as he thought over exactly what he wanted to ask. “Are you taking it well?”

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but it was cut off quickly by an unforeseen chuckle that made his gray eyes sparkle with life for a moment. “I don’t know,” he finally replied.

Severus nodded. “I think you’re taking it as well as can be expected.” Snape was wound tighter than a spring as he gently eased himself from where he had perched on his large oak desk and settled instead into a chair under one of his student workbenches. It didn’t take much for Draco to take the seat across from him. Now they were even. “I’m surprised you were able to slip away from Greengrass and Nott.”

“Yeah, it took some stealth,” Draco admitted. He shrugged. “I’ll see them on the train though.”

“Have you been sleeping alright?”

“No,” the blonde answered bluntly. “You?”

Severus tilted his head in amusement, even though there was nothing really amusing about this situation. Maybe he was just happy to be talking to a member of his family after two weeks of isolation, no matter the topic. “I’ve slept better.”

Draco whimpered at his words and reached up a hand to wipe moisture from his eyes. “It’s really you,” Draco stated quietly. “I don’t understand. Which one of you is the real one?”

Severus sucked in a deep breath and stretched an arm across the table, turning his palm face up. He didn’t expect Draco to take it, had meant for it to be a simple sign of trust, but suddenly Draco’s smaller hand slipped into his and rested there. Snape smiled down at where they touched, palm to palm, before he commenced answering Draco’s question. 

“The real me? For a long time I had a hard time answering that question. I used to think neither of my personas were real, you know?” Snape paused, smiling sadly as he remembered a conversation with Remus before Christmas break last year. It seemed so long ago now. “Severus Snape felt more like an act. He was an outward appearance I had to show the rest of the wizarding world because I was a spy, a double agent. He didn’t seem real. And Steven Prince… well every time I transformed into him, it was like stepping into a dream. Sometimes I wondered if I made you all up, if I concocted this… fantasy, this family that I actually got to be a part of… I seriously considered that I might have gone mad and you and Harry and Sirius and Remus were merely hallucinations. But I know now that they are both real. I am both Severus Snape, a half-blood born in 1960, Slytherin and Professor at Hogwarts, and Steven Prince, godfather, uncle and brother. I am them and they are both me.”

“Why—“ Draco cut off his question, seeming to think better of it, but Snape wanted to hear what his Godson had to say.

“Why what?”

“Why… why are there two of you in the first place?”

Severus hated to do so, but he gently extracted his right hand from under Draco’s and took a halting breath before folding up the sleeve of his left arm and turning his now bare forearm to face Draco. There, etched in the paleness of Snape’s skin, was the dark mark, still faded slightly, but much more visible than it had been in over ten years. It was something Severus tried desperately not to notice.

“Do you know what this means?”

Without taking his eyes off the tattoo, Draco nodded. “But you aren’t— are you— he said…”

Snape quickly pushed back down his sleeve and whirled on Draco. “He said what? What did he say? Does he not think I’m a Death Eater anymore?”

Wide eyes swiftly flashed up to meet Severus’s and Snape realized that this was the first time their eyes had made direct contact since Draco entered the classroom. “No! No, he—“ Draco blinked, confused again.

Severus sighed audibly, relief probably written all of his face. He ran a hand through his long black hair, trying to calm down. “This is why there are two of me, Draco. Voldemort can never find out. Not about you, or Harry. No one. He will use you against me—“ Severus’s explanation was cut off when he saw the fear in Draco’s eyes. “Hey,” Snape said, reaching out his hand again, hurt when Draco didn’t reach out his own this time. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Draco shot up from his chair and scrambled his away around the workbenches until he was back at the door, wrenching it open. “No it’s not,” he whispered painfully as he left.

Severus stared at the open entryway long after his Godson disappeared from view. When he next looked up at the clock, he had fifteen minutes left before he was allowed to go home. Good. 

He needed to check on Sirius.

***

Just as the yellow watch hand shifted from “School” to “Out”, the floo in his study roared to life and Snape stepped out of the flames. Sirius was slightly bewildered at first that Severus Snape was the one stepping through and not Steven Prince, but he quickly realized it no longer mattered. Everyone with access to this house, except Harry, now knew the truth about Steven and Snape. Severus would finally get to be himself when he came home.

One look at what Sirius was positive was complete and utter misery carved into every line of his face, and Severus immediately went for the drink cart wedged in the corner of the study. It was the middle of the day, but Sirius honestly couldn't care less.

After pouring two generous tumblers of the leftover brandy from months ago, Snape made his way over and sat next to Sirius on the sofa. Without looking in his his direction, Severus held out the glass and Sirius took it silently. They sat together like that, sipping at the alcohol, the only sound in the room, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

Finally, Sirius managed to ask, “Did you talk to Draco?”

“Yup,” Severus replied with an extra pop at the end of the word.

Sirius sighed, wincing slightly. “And?”

“It was going well… until it wasn’t.”

“What happened?”

Severus thought it over for a moment. “I think he was scared. I was telling him why I had to be Steven Prince, how I couldn’t let Voldemort know that Severus Snape had a family. And Draco just bolted. He mentioned that— that it wasn’t going to be okay.”

Sirius’s eyes fell closed in anguish. “Did he mention his mum at all?”

“What?! No! Does Draco know— does he know about Narcissa?”

Sirius opened his eyes again only to stare sadly into his almost empty glass of brandy. “Yup.”

He heard the sound of heavy glass on wood and suddenly Severus’s eyes were on him, his body shifting sideways on the couch until the potion’s master was directly facing Sirius. “Are you alright?”

Sirius’s dry chuckle became an almost-sob instantly. “He won’t talk to me. He hasn’t said anything, Severus. And I just—“ Sirius let out an abrupt humorless chortle. “I wonder if my parents felt this way when I ran away from home.”

“I very highly doubt it, Sirius. They disowned you after you left.”

Sirius laughed, heartily this time, and he felt, rather than saw, as Snape extracted the empty glass of alcohol from his fingers and placed it next to his own on the coffee table. Sirius fell against his friend, letting his head rest on the man’s shoulder. He heard his laughter turn to a whimper and knew he was on the verge of turning into Padfoot, like he had done all week when he was alone with Remus. He refrained from shifting this time though, perhaps finally wanting to feel the full extent of his depression. He wished Remus were here, but Severus had proven to be a good substitute when it came to comforting someone.

“Are you going to disown Draco?” Severus could barely get out the question before he started giggling.

Sirius joined him. “Oh you know it,” he replied sarcastically. “I’m going to say to him, ‘Draco, I lied to you for twelve years, you were almost just killed by Voldemort, your brother is lying in a hospital bed, but because it’s taking you so very very long to forgive me, because I’m petty and annoyed that you’ve put me through a week of hell, I think I’ll just have to strip you of the Black family name, the titles, the money, and you know what— let’s add my love too that list while we’re at it. That sound good?’”

“Well someone’s being sassy,” Severus murmured, pulling Sirius closer against him, the Gryffindor allowing it and sagging into the embrace.

“I can’t imagine it, Severus,” he whispered into his friend’s robes. “He’s my son and for that reason alone, I’ll never stop loving him.”

“I know.”

“I just hope I’m still his father,” Sirius continued, his voice barely loud enough to be audible.

“Stop that talk,” Snape chastised, his voice deep and soothing. “You are his father, for the simple fact that you’re even worried you might not be. He just needs time.”

“Do you think he’ll be ready by the time the Hogwarts Express…” Sirius lifted up his wrist to glance at his magical watch again. He froze, his wisecrack drifting off into nothing. He suddenly snapped up to attention, staring at his watch with wide eyes.

“What?! Is someone in Mortal Peril?!“

“No… no. It says— it says Draco is… home?”

Sirius was frozen for one second, two, three—

Then a rustling by the doorway had him looking in that direction just as Draco Sirius Black emerged from under James’s invisibility cloak.

Sirius and Draco locked eyes, neither daring to move for one second, two, three…

Sirius opened his arms and Draco leapt into them, bowling Sirius back onto the sofa. Sirius held his son tight, reaching blindly for Severus and pulling him in as well. His heart swelled so much in his chest, he thought he might burst as his son buried his face into Sirius’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Draco cried. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”

“Shh,” Sirius comforted, “it’s okay, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I love you,” his son sobbed, and Sirius could feel wet patches on the collar of his shirt. He didn’t care.

“I love you too. So much.”

“And I love you, Steven,” Draco continued. The floodgates had opened and there was no stopping Draco now. That suited Sirius just fine. At least he was talking.

“I’ll always love you, kid,” Severus replied, nuzzling his face into Draco’s back.

“But we can’t let him know,” Draco wailed, clinging onto Sirius so tightly it would leave bruises. “We can’t— if I had known about you, about my Mum, about any of it, he would have known about it too. He would have seen it because he was in my head and I couldn’t— I couldn’t keep him out of there! You were right to keep the secrets from me, because otherwise we would all be in danger!”

Sirius’s eyes sought out Severus’s over the top of of his son’s crying form. He’d considered the possibility that Voldemort had used legilimency. The fact that Draco avoided eye contact made a convincing argument, but Gods he hated to hear the truth spoken out loud like this. Draco had been suffering this torture, this violation of his mind, in solitude for two weeks. Sirius wished he had known sooner. There was nothing he could have done about it, but still… he’d wished he had known.

Sirius ran his hand through Draco’s hair, a calming gesture as his son finished his panicked crying, his breathing evening out until Sirius was almost positive the boy had fallen asleep. He didn’t dare risk waking him, so they remained like that, the three of them, huddled together on the sofa basking in the warmth of each other.

Suddenly the floo flared to life and a haggard-looking Remus stepped out of the flames. “Sirius I— oh.”

Sirius cringed slightly. He’d completely forgotten that Remus was supposed to be picking Draco up from King’s Cross Station. Now he wondered how Draco even got home.

“Corey,” Sirius hissed.

The house elf suddenly popped into the study and Sirius considered the room to be at max capacity now. It wasn’t a very large room after all.

“Yes, sir?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at the honorific. Corey only referred to him as “Sir” or “Master” when he was worried he did something wrong.

“Did you bring Draco home?”

“Master Draco called Corey from the trains. He told Corey not to says anything.”

“Okay,” Sirius replied, pleased he had guessed correctly. “I think a chocolate cake is in order, Corey.”

Corey’s eyes brightened substantially. “Right aways. Master Draco’s favorites.” And then Corey popped away again.

Sirius turned his attention to Remus, careful not shift Draco too much for fear of waking him. “Sorry about that Moony.”  
Remus snorted, waving away the apology. “Who cares? I had a minor cardiac arrest when I didn’t spot a bright blonde head of hair exiting the train, but I’ll live.” Moony nodded toward the sleeping boy still nestled in Sirius’s arms, snoring softly. “How is he?”

Severus answered for him. “Not great, but at least he’s getting some sleep.”

“Good, that’s good.”

Suddenly they heard the flames of the floo start up again and everyone turned as a bright-eyed and pink-haired Tonks stepped out of the flames and promptly announced, “Harry’s awake!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- So first, I just want to comment real quick on the first part of this chapter, the part from Hermione’s perspective with the study group (sans Draco and Harry) gathered around talking about how the newspapers were portraying the death of Quirrell. This was SO hard to write you guys, let me tell you. And the reason this proved so difficult, I think, is because there is no frame of reference in the books. Harry just wakes up in the infirmary and Dumbledore explains what happens in his cryptic Dumbledore way. A professor died, though! Like— what the hell? Until I started writing this, I didn’t realize how weird it was that no one in the wizarding world was freaking out over this whole event that occurred at Hogwarts in the original series. And maybe we just didn’t see it because we only learned stuff through Harry’s eyes. But seriously, I find the whole thing very strange. So I tried to portray how wizarding society would react at that moment in time as accurately as I possibly could. In Draco Sirius Black, I have made it a point to fully represent a wizarding world in which the adults and children actually give a damn about what’s going on in their society, to show the political landscape, as well as the personal one. I hope I did an alright job.
> 
> Second, I started listening to this podcast called Potterotica. It’s fucking hilarious. It gets my full recommendation and as a person who reads and writes fan fiction, I’m very happy that while the podcast is comedic, the three hosts are never disrespectful towards fanfic authors or their stories. This podcast does read erotic fan fiction (hence the name Potterotica) so it might not be for everyone, but I just really enjoy the banter and the genuine love the hosts have for Harry Potter and the world JK Rowling built. So check it out if you want. 
> 
> And also, sometimes the podcast has the actual authors on to talk about their stories (which is really cool) and sometimes they recommend other fan fictions that a are little too long to cover on the show. One of them just mentioned Isolation by Bexchan on ff.net as his favorite, and yes! Go read that now if you haven’t already! Or read it again if you have! I’m so glad he reminded me of that wonderful fic, the fic that got me into Harry Potter fan fiction in the first place. It’s so, so good, you guys. That piece of writing changed my life. I certainly wouldn’t be writing Draco Sirius Black if Bexchan had never written Isolation. Bold statement, but probably very true.
> 
> Finally, please let me know how you think Draco’s arc went in this chapter. I’m very nervous about how I’m characterizing my main character and how he will be received, so can you please stop me from hyperventilating by catering to my jittery ego. Thanks. :)
> 
> You guys are so supportive and I thank you for that in every conceivable way. I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have Draco Sirius Black now at over 100,000 views between AO3 and ff.net. It’s incredible. And to everyone that comes back to read the newest chapter, thank you for being so amazing. I know this is going to be a long, fantastic ride as I continue to tell the rest of this story and I hope you all stick with me through the journey.
> 
> As Part 1 is wrapping up next chapter, please let me know if there is anything you want me to address, any questions that need answered, and any plot bunnies that need to be fixed before I start writing Part 2. Thanks!


	29. 1:29- Understand Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I know. I know it’s been three months. I know you’ll probably have to read the end of the last chapter to refresh your memory. I know. But it’s been a weird couple months for me, so I hope you can understand. I had such severe writer’s block, you guys. For this chapter especially. Do you know how hard it is to write a functional Harry Potter while still making him sound like Harry Potter? Really hard. At least, for me it was. Anyway, here is chapter 29, finally. And it’s a long one so I hope that makes up for the wait. Then next week, I’m posting the epilogue for part 1. And then, yeah, I’ll probably be disappearing again. Sorry. But hopefully I won’t be gone for three months this time. It sucks for me too to wait that long. Love you all and hope you can forgive me for the wait. Please enjoy.

Draco strode back and forth in front of the fireplace. Someone had to. Usually the honor went to his Uncle Steven, but the man was currently sitting as still as a statue on the sofa. And he looked like Snape. It was all very strange and confusing.

Draco had awoken from his nap almost an hour ago, his head in Remus’s lap. The werewolf was stroking his hair like he used to do whenever Draco came down with the mumblemumps as a child, which, unfortunately, was quite often.

For a long while, the blonde just laid there, enjoying the familiar comforting sensation of fingers through his hair, until finally he lifted his head and looked around the room in confusion.

“Where is everyone,” he asked, his voice gravelly. More accurately, he wanted to ask, Where is my dad?

Remus smiled down at him. “Your dad and Dora went to hospital to smuggle Harry out before the media and the DMLE caught word that he’s awake and swarmed his room.”

Draco brightened at the news, suddenly itching to jump around the house in pure unadulterated joy. But then he caught sight of his professor staring moodily out the window of the study, his fingers twitching every so often towards the inside of his robes and then pulling away again as if the fabric were made of ice that burned at the touch. Draco watched the man for a long while. Finally, he realized the reason for Snape’s indecision and Draco opened his mouth to settle the man’s internal debate once and for all.

“Stop it,” Draco stated bluntly, and Snape turned from the window abruptly, large, dark eyes landing on Draco in surprise.

“Stop what?” His voice was a little haunting, but Draco decided to pay it no mind. Underneath the dark eyes and the black hair was his Godfather. And no matter how strange, Draco would try to treat the man as such.

“Stop reaching for the polyjuice. You aren’t taking it.”

Snape glanced away quickly as if he couldn’t look into Draco’s eyes any longer, embarrassed to be caught out. The blonde felt a hand rest on his shoulder, but he shrugged Remus’s touch off and got to his feet.

“Harry will not walk into this place and be met with a lie,” Draco declared, but his tone lacked the heat Snape had probably been expecting. Suddenly dark eyes were back on Draco tinged with unexpected gratitude for Draco’s kind timbre. And then it was gone, replaced with doubt and hesitation.

“He just woke up—“

“I don’t care,” Draco interrupted. “And you’re not leaving, either,” he added, striding over to his Godfather with determination. “I know it’s hard, but… let’s both try to not be Slytherins for a second. No running away, no deception, no strategizing. Now’s not the time for any of that. Okay?”

The professor’s lips curled up just slightly at the corners. “Are you suggesting I not draw out the inevitable and just get it over with like a bloody Gryffindor?”

Draco grinned. His Uncle Steven’s casual teasing of Sirius’s and Remus’s house pride over the past ten years suddenly made a lot more sense. The Gryffindor/Slytherin house rivalry was legendary, spanning a millennia. If any good came out of all of this, Draco was glad to know that at least he wan’t the only Slytherin in the household anymore. He supposed he never had been.

“I think Harry would appreciate it— probably not right way,” Draco quickly amended. “But later on, surely. You know, after the initial yelling and righteous anger.”

Snape snorted and it was such a weird expression to see on the potion master’s face that for a moment, Draco had forgotten that this person in front of him was his Godfather. He couldn’t help but flinch. He regretted the motion instantly, but there was no way to take it back. And this whole situation was still too new for Draco to even consider explaining the action to his Godfather in a way that would take away the sadness in the man’s eyes, so he didn’t even try. Snape nodded his head as if he understood, understood Draco in a way that even Draco wasn’t entirely sure he fully grasped. Snape returned to staring out the window. Draco strode back over to the fireplace and began his pacing. Every so often he would glance Snape’s way, glad to see that at least the man was taking Draco’s advice to heart. He didn’t reach for the polyjuice again. And he didn’t leave either.

Corey popped in, poured tea for the three of them, accepted Remus’s word of thanks with a slightly anxious smile, and popped away again. It was the only noise besides the tread of Draco’s footsteps across the carpet as he paced. Everyone waited. And waited. And waited.

Despite all the waiting and anticipation, Draco still startled when the floo whirled to life and out stepped Sirius, followed by Harry, and then Tonks. The sudden claustrophobia in the too-small room was supremely outweighed by the elation Draco felt at seeing his brother, and before anyone could even utter a word, Draco jumped at Harry and wrapped him in a hug so tight, it bordered on strangulation. 

But he was alive. Harry was alive. And hugging him back. Draco felt the world right itself again for the first time in weeks.

Some time into the embrace, Harry stiffened. Draco didn’t have to look behind him to find out what made Harry react that way. Suddenly Draco wished he could just throw the invisibility cloak over the both of them and smuggle his brother away from all this. But that seemed a bit counterproductive to what Draco had just explained to Snape that they had to do. They had to face this head-on.

Gradually, Draco uncurled himself from the brunette, but remained as close as humanly possible to Harry in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It comforted Draco, at least, to be within centimeters of Harry Potter. It always had.

Draco swallowed as he turned around to face the four adult occupants of the tiny study, bumping Harry’s arm with his own every couple seconds to remind the boy that he was there if Harry needed him.

Draco’s dad had sidled up to Severus, looking like he was offering a similar kind of solace with his proximity as Draco was currently offering to Harry. Synapses in his brain flashed into sudden focus. Snape was Sirius’s brother just as much Harry was Draco’s. The impact of that realization nearly knocked Draco to the floor. He understood, then, with vivid clarity just how much Snape meant to his dad. Meant to all of them. It settled into Draco’s veins like hot tea on a cold day.

Snape was the first to make a move and Draco almost applauded the man’s courage. He took a half-step closer to Harry and scrutinized every inch of the boy’s body as if still looking for injury. Harry shifted beside Draco with apparent unease at the attention. After a bit, Snape looked satisfied with what he saw and cleared his throat.

“Hey kiddo,” the professor managed. Strained though his words sounded, it still seemed to lighten the mood in the room. Draco twisted his head to look at Harry. His opinion was the only one that mattered right now though.

Harry blinked in rapid succession, quickly searching through everything he knew that might help him come up with a solution for why Severus Snape would be in Sirius’s study. It didn’t take long. Harry was smart. 

He nodded jerkily. “Okay.”

That one word was jarring for Draco. He realized it was because this was the first thing he’d heard Harry say in over two weeks.

“Okay then,” Harry continued, seeming resigned to the conclusion he’d made about Snape. Then Harry’s expression turned pained as he barked out a grim sort of laugh. “So… did you all know?”

Draco was eternally grateful the “you all” portion of Harry’s question didn’t seem to include him even with it’s all-encompassing definition. He was also glad to be standing on Harry’s side of the invisible line suddenly drawn down the center of his dad’s study.

“You did,” Harry surmised, drawing all kinds of conclusions on his own that afternoon. “You knew he was alive. And you—“

Draco watched Harry clench his fists at his sides only to make a conscious effort to straighten his fingers back out. Harry was trying his hardest not to collapse into rage. It wasn’t going to work. But Draco was glad he was at least trying.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me think I killed him when I was a baby?!”

The four adults flinched at the biting words, and Draco might have as well, if he wasn’t suddenly very aware of the magic pouring off of Harry in waves of emotion. Draco’s skin prickled at his proximity to it.

Nobody answered Harry’s questions. Draco thought that was a good plan. Let Harry get it all out before trying to explain, even if it may hurt immeasurably to listen to Harry’s criticisms. 

“I mean, the whole world thinks I’m some kind of savior, which… whatever, I guess. I don’t really care if you didn’t tell the whole of Great Britain, but you should have still told me! Maybe if I’d known, I wouldn’t have walked my brother and I right into a trap! If I’d known I would have realized why my scar hurt every time I was around Quirrell! I would have figured out that Voldemort was possessing him! I could have told you!”

The glass lantern on Sirius’s desk shattered at the burst of accidental magic. No one paid the slightest bit of attention to it. No one except Harry himself. He looked destroyed by what he’d just done in his surge of righteous anger, and in a nano-second, his fit of pique vanished. It was replaced by a deep-seeded, overwhelming fear.

His dad, Snape, and Remus all lunged into action at the same moment, practically falling at Harry’s feet to check to make sure he was alright. Draco couldn’t seem to feel anything except a strangely deep sense of love at Harry’s concern for him. I wouldn’t have walked my bother and I right into a trap. It hit Draco then that Harry had probably been just as eager to make sure Draco was alive as Draco was to find Harry awake and well.

Draco was certain he hadn’t been this much of a sap before that day in the DADA classroom. He really hoped he’d return to normal soon.

“Just leave me alone! All of you!” 

Harry practically sprinted from the room leaving the rest of them in his dust.

Once again, Draco was pretty sure Harry’s use of “all of you” didn’t include Draco, and hastened to follow. He found Harry on the stairwell and grabbed the brunette’s hand as he passed, effectively dragging him down the steps, past the doors that lead to the kitchens, through the front door, and out into the warm early evening. It took Harry a moment to realize where Draco was leading him, but he eventually stopped resisting and jogged up next to Draco as they made their way to the treehouse out back. Harry climbed the rope ladder first and helped pull Draco the last of the way up. Only when they were both seated in the cozy “living area” of the treehouse did their breathing calm down enough to make any kind of noise beyond their collective panting. They both decided on hysterical laughter as their first form of communication.

“Oh man, mate,” Draco sighed as his laughter finally died down and a serenity had settled over their little fort. “I missed you.”

Harry chuckled. “Such a sap.”

“I know! I was just thinking that a few minutes ago,” Draco said, refusing to deny it. “But whatever. I sat at your bedside and watched you sleep for two weeks. I’ve earned a little bit of sappiness.”

Harry’s smile was kind while they sat in silence for a bit. Then, almost in an instant, the atmosphere sobered. Harry’s smile faltered and became only a small quirk of the lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So… Uncle Steven…?”

“Yeah,” Draco answered. “Yeah.”

Harry rubbed a hand through his hair, making it fluff up in the front.

“You need a haircut,” Draco acknowledged.

“I’ll get right on that,” Harry deadpanned.

Draco ran a hand through his own blond strands, which had him remembering a few other revelations he’d discovered while Harry was unconscious. He wanted to tell Harry everything. No time like the present, he supposed.

“Harry,” Draco started, his voice a faint hush, though still audible in the quiet of the treehouse. 

Harry looked up, green eyes flashing from under his eyelashes with determination. “Go ahead. Tell me everything. I want to know.”

Draco nodded. “Okay. Okay,” he repeated. “Uh— but first, I want to explain that what I’m about to tell you, I already kind of told you while you were in your coma. I asked you to wake up… because I needed you— I still need you to be you. And I need you to tell me what to think because I’m very worried that I’m dwelling on things that don’t actually matter. Which… well, clearly I was. That was made very apparent a few minutes ago when you clearly explained to me, and everyone else, that the fact that Voldemort is still alive is far more important than what I’m about to tell you. Okay?”

Harry nodded. “Okay. I’m not sure I understand what you mean yet, but explain it to me, and I’ll listen.”

“Okay.”

***

“I remember Malfoy, I think. He was the one who insulted Charlie at the World Cup.”

“Yeah. The hair is kind of a dead giveaway, isn’t it?”

“Hmm… Just don’t grow it out, Draco. Ever.”

“Fair.”

Remus sat on the landing of the staircase right before it twisted left toward the east wing and right toward the west wing, straining his supernatural hearing as far as it would allow to hear the conversation in the treehouse between Harry Potter and Draco Black. He vaguely noticed Tonks settle on the step just to his left, her back against the railing, facing the wall. Remus gave a muted acknowledgement of her presence and returned to his eavesdropping.

“Is it weird? To not be related to your dad?”

“Well… technically I still am. I think we’re second cousins. Like Tonks.”

“That’s sort of… weirder.”

“Yeah I guess it is. But you’re not related to Sirius. And he’s still your dad. Right?”

“Always.”

Remus felt his lips turn up into a smile.

“Wait— are you listening in on their conversation?”

Remus frowned as he lost focus and could no longer hear the exchange of words going on up in the treehouse. He glared over at Dora who looked utterly unrepentant. “I was,” he growled. “Now I have to concentrate again.”

Dora’s eyes widened to an unreal extent and just as swiftly narrowed into tiny slits of indignation on behalf of her two cousins. Which— okay, yeah. That was fair. Remus stopped trying to find the thread of conversation between Draco and Harry again and glanced over at Tonks, a look of chagrin on his face. Dora’s expression softened.

“Are they okay?”

Remus considered the little that he overheard. It sounded like progress as far as he was concerned, so he nodded. “I think so.”

“Do they know you listen to them? That you invade their privacy sometimes?” Tonks was smiling, painting her questions as jest. However, Remus found himself wishing they weren’t said in a joking manner. Tonks must have seen this wish in his expression for she frowned down at him and shook her head. “Oh I see. You want them to be mad at you.”

Remus didn’t even try to feign that Tonks was way off the mark. Because she wasn’t. The kids were angry and upset with almost everyone except him. It seemed no one was angry with Remus at all. He should probably be happy about that. He wasn’t.

Remus sighed. “I would prefer they weren’t upset with anyone. But I don’t see why I should be exempt from their displeasure when I did the same as Sirius and Severus.”

Tonks snorted. “They weren’t your secrets to tell, Remus.”

“But I kept them all the same,” he countered, smiling humorlessly. “I deserve the same treatment, if for no other reason than because I truly believed we were in the right by keeping the boys in the dark all these years. And I stand by that. Keeping secrets is difficult for a child. I didn’t want them to ever have to do that.”

“So you kept the secrets for them,” Tonks stated as fact.

“Yeah,” Remus said, answering the non-question anyway. He sighed. “I hope they know I stand with them.”

Twin gazes flashed up the staircase to the left as if they might be able to see the “them” Remus had been referring to through the walls.

“Can you hear them,” Tonks asked, tilting her head in the direction of the study where Severus and Sirius still resided.

Remus nodded. “They haven’t said a word.”

“Oh.” Dora returned her attention to Remus and unselfconsciously smiled down at him like he hung the moon and stars. “You are a good person, Remus Lupin.” A delicate hand rested on Moony’s shoulder and squeezed it briefly before retracting. “Trust me. Everyone knows where you stand. And no one’s upset with you because of it. And no one should be.”

Remus huffed but didn’t dispute Dora’s claim. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists letting the silence reign over the stairwell for a long while. Finally, sighing in exhaustion, Remus smiled over at Tonks and nodded his thanks. She nodded back.

“So, are you staying for supper?”

Dora laughed, a surprisingly light little chuckle considering how loaded and frightening that simple question really was. “I wouldn’t miss it. Besides I’m starving.”

“It’s going to be terribly awkward. Are you sure,” Remus asked, his words turning playful despite the troubling circumstances. Nymphadora Tonks had that way about her that made even the most uncomfortable of situations seem like nothing to worry yourself over.

“I’m sure.”

Remus nodded. “So, wait— no Bill this evening?”

“Bill went out of the country. So… no. No Bill.”

This was news to Remus. “He left Britain. Where did he go?”

Tonks hummed quietly, playing with the fringe of her muggle jean shorts. Green eyes flashed up briefly to meet Remus’s before returning to the incredibly fascinating task of pulling bits of loose thread from her weathered cuffs. “Bill went to go see Charlie,” she finally offered as explanation. 

And it was all the explanation Remus really needed. “Ah.”

Sirius had hardly spoken to Charlie in the two weeks since the events with Voldemort. In fact, Remus was fairly certain the last the two spoke was when Charlie fire-called Sirius to complain about having to read about the incident at Hogwarts in the papers. Remus didn’t know the full story, because Sirius had only briefly mentioned the encounter once and left it at that. Remus hadn’t pressed the issue. Besides, it was kind of hard to press the issue when your friend was a furry dog for most of the time you spent together.

Remus sighed. “Are you terribly upset with your cousin?”

“Well… I can’t say I’m happy with him.”

“Understandable,” Remus agreed. He wasn’t happy with Sirius regarding this situation either. “But… he has his reasons—“

“Oh don’t start,” Tonks interrupted, her lips turning up at the corners as if she were simply amused by the whole scenario, though Remus knew she wasn’t. “I’m sure Sirius has plenty of excuses at the ready. And… I know. I know why he’s decided to shut Charlie out of his life. He thinks he puts people in danger when he’s around them, that this entire situation at Hogwarts was his fault. But he’s a daft old man and I will tell him that when he’s feeling better. And everyone should know that I have zero intention of letting him push my best friend away. Sorry. Not happening.”

Remus grinned. “Once he’s feeling better,” Remus repeated, “that sounds good to me.”

Tonks chuckled and knocked her knees against Remus’s arm. When her laughter died down, she audibly sighed in exaggeration and leaned in close. “I really am very hungry Moony. Any chance we could start that awkward dinner now?”

Remus snorted and called for Corey.

“Yes, sir?”

“Please set the table Corey. Flash, you gather the boys. I’ll get Harry and Draco.”

Tonks’s laughter echoed off the ceiling as she jogged up the stairs to fetch Sirius and Severus. Remus glanced down at Corey who nodded once and popped away.

***

When Tonks called Sirius and Severus to dinner, the two men made their way down to the dining room sluggishly. It was a cautionary measure to try to arrive with as little time as possible in which they would have to stare at the two empty chairs where their boys usually sat. Sev was positive Remus would eventually coax Harry and Draco from the treehouse. But it could take him awhile.

Half an hour later, everyone sat around the table picking at their plates of chicken and rice in extremely awkward silence, no one really making eye contact with each other. Corey had to excuse himself ten minutes earlier due to his overwhelming anxiety. House elves were nervous creatures by nature. This situation wasn’t really helping any.

Severus felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilation, of drowning on nothing but air. His friend beside him wasn’t fairing much better. In fact, Snape thought Sirius actually might be doing worse. Harry’s words had done a number on the two of them.

But there Harry was, sitting across from him, like every Summer holiday. Sev glanced up from his plate to catch a glimpse of squinty green eyes focused on his food in contemplation. He should have been ecstatic the boy had moved on from his anger, but all Snape could think about were the terrible things Harry might be considering in his solitary introspection.

What if Harry decides to never forgive us? 

No, Severus, stop that. You’re the adult. He’s a child. He doesn’t know what’s best. 

And you do, he asked himself.

No. I don’t. Voldemort is back. He’s back. 

He’s always been back, though, Snape reminded himself. He’s always just… been. Like a cockroach that just won’t die. A cancerous tumor that you tried to extract from your brain, but a little piece just keeps remaining no matter how many times you slice it away. And now it will spread. It will spread to your loved ones. You want to keep them safe from even that tiny little spark of pain the tumor sends down your spine every once and a while when you remember it’s existence. It spread to Narcissa and she killed herself because of it. It spread to Lily and James and they died from it. It spread to Sirius and Remus and they’ve been fighting it back just like you. But now… now it’s spreading again. First Tonks. Then Charlie, Bill, Rosie, Frank, Alice, Grayson, Naomi…

And soon it will latch onto Draco and Harry—

Soon? It already has, Severus. It already has. And don’t kid yourself. It latched onto Harry a long time ago. He’s just finally showing symptoms.

“Professor, are you alright?”

Snape blinked, watched as the motion let a single tear slip into the cold rice left on his plate, before glancing up to his right to meet Tonks’s worried gaze. 

“I’m fine, Flash.”

Tonks raised a perfect brown eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because you look like you might puke any second.”

Snape hadn’t realized just how queasy he felt until Tonks mentioned it. He was a little dizzy as well, his eyes were on fire, and his head thrummed something awful. Gods, he must look a mess.

“Yes, well…” Snape tried to think of something to say, searched for a reason for his current state of being, besides the obvious. “I might have… missed you all.” That could work. It certainly wasn’t a lie. He’d missed them all in a way that bordered on essential to his own continued survival. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to cut myself out of my family’s lives for a bit, and even then, I still had Remus for company.”

Moony graced him with a small smile in acknowledgement to the truly hellish week the two of them shared ten years ago when Snape had to remove Sirius’s memories of him. Severus glanced over to his left where Sirius was nodding in understanding but staring down at the polished finish of the oak dining table as if it held his memories like a pensieve rather than reflected the man’s own blurry face.

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably. Now that the silence had been broken, he didn’t really want to return to it. And if he was the one who had to speak up, he supposed he could deal with that.

“The papers only gave me information on Harry, and it’s not as if that settled my nerves any considering they only mentioned that he was still in a coma. I had no information on anyone else. Is—“ Snape was about to ask if everyone was okay, meaning Bill and Charlie and Rosmerta and everyone else not currently in the room, but, well… “Oh Jesus Christ, is Rosmerta going to be upset with me? Is she alright? I feel like an idiot; I should have at least sent her an owl, although… no. The wizarding world knows she’s in a relationship with Steven Prince. It would look strange to have her receive correspondence from me especially since I was being watched. No, no. She might still be upset with me, though. Merlin, she’s going to be upset, isn’t she—“

Snape’s longwinded rant was cut off by Remus’s deep chuckle and now everyone was looking up from their plates, eyes flickering back and forth between Remus and Severus with hints of amusement in their eyes. Remus’s eyes were warm when his laughter died down and his attention focused on Snape.

“What? I’m worried, alright,” Snape admitted, rolling his eyes at Remus’s shit-eating grin. This was the girl of his dreams he was talking about here. Severus was allowed to be a little worried he’d fucked things up.

“Rosie’s fine, Sev,” Remus announced simply. “I explained why you couldn’t contact her, but I never really needed to. She understood. She’s actually been at the Greengrass’s most days helping Naomi with her research.”

Sev couldn’t help but blanch at this new piece of information. “She’s willingly stepped foot into a house where Grayson Greengrass resides? On her own? That’s— Is it strange that I’m even more worried about her than I was before?”

“Those two women make a frighteningly good team, actually,” Tonks piped in around a mouthful of magically reheated rice. “Bill and I read Naomi’s Quibbler articles. They were well-researched.”

Snape nodded. He’d thought so as well. They actually made that trashy newspaper sound like a reliable news source for once. Naomi was probably receiving a lot of flack for that by the general populous. If the information sounded real, it meant it probably was. And those articles were terrifying. Snape didn’t want them to be real even though he knew for a fact that they were.

Stop thinking about it!

Snape snapped out of his thoughts and returned his attention to the surprisingly less-tense atmosphere that had settled over the six of them. Although Sirius and the boys hadn’t made a peep since supper started, at least they were eating their meals with a renewed vigor. That was good.

“So, how is Bill,” Snape asked as he, too, began picking out the pieces of chicken and popping them into his mouth. His stomach still churned tumultuously every few seconds, but he forced himself to act normally.

“He’s fine,” Tonks answered, and if it came out a little terse, Snape paid it no mind.

Severus turned his attention to Sirius. “And Charlie? How’s he doing, Sirius?”

“Yes,” Tonks chirped, pouncing on Snape’s question with dangerous enthusiasm. Snape practically flinched and he noticed Harry and Draco do the same across from him. Clearly the three of them were out of the loop regarding something significant, for Remus looked like he’d seen Tonks’s interjection coming a mile off. And he didn’t look thrilled with her. “How is Charlie, Sirius?”

“Dora.” Remus’s warning was practically a growl and he glared at her from across the table.

Tonks huffed.

Snape tilted his head to the left and watched Sirius for a moment. The man was a statue, his eyes once again fixed on his glowing reflection in the polished wood finish. His fingers twitched around his fork from time to time. It was an unsettling sight.

“What happened to Charlie,” Draco asked. “Is he hurt?”

“Oh, he’s hurt,” Tonks confirmed, pointedly flickering her gaze to Sirius’s hunched over figure.

“Dora!” 

Tonks paled significantly as her attention was pulled toward a glowering Remus. Whoever claimed a werewolf’s bite was worse than their bark, had clearly never met Remus Lupin. The man barked so very, very rarely, but it stopped you dead in your tracks every time.

Remus had his eyes firmly place on Tonks and they were cold, yet pleading. 

Tonks let out a calculating breath, the type Severus had seen Sirius use on numerous occasions to calm himself down. It was an old trick of Alastor’s Sirius had learned from his time as a Hit Wizard. Apparently Moody still taught that to his recruits.

“Sorry,” Tonks finally voiced, the single word clear and authentic. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, this time to Sirius directly.

Sirius didn’t acknowledge the apology. In fact, the man seemed lost in his own head, his fingers rubbing his temples like he had the worst migraine in the world.

“Someone please tell me that Charlie isn’t hulled up in hospital with a singed off limb,” Draco demanded.

Remus reached over and ran his fingers lightly through his nephew’s blond hair. “No. Tonks meant he was hurt emotionally. Not physically.”

And… Oh. Snape let his eyelids close over his pupils to hide the fact that he was rolling his eyes with overwhelming affection and exasperation for his dearest and oldest friend. Sirius was pushing Charlie away. Severus found it absolutely adorable that the man thought he would get away with it. Charlie Weasley was family now. It was too late.

But then Snape actually looked at his friend, a devastated, broken wizard who seemed just short of pulling out his own hair, and realized that maybe Sirius had no intention of keeping Charlie away for long. Just long enough for Sirius to regain some semblance order back to himself and his family. For a boy who played a lot of pranks during his school days, Sirius Black surprisingly despised chaos with a passion. He hated when things in his life became convoluted and messy, when he couldn’t keep track of everything. It’s why he didn’t really enjoy potions and runes all that much, preferring charms and transfiguration instead. Sirius could see the simplicity in spell-work and he longed for that kind of simplicity in every aspect of his life.

But a cancer known as Voldemort made everything terrifyingly difficult.

“Uncle Steven.”

In the blink of an eye, Tonks stopped pouting, Remus stopped comforting, Draco stopped fretting, Sirius stopped sulking, and Severus… stopped. He just stopped. And they all looked up at Harry.

Severus swallowed, trying to force spit past his tongue so it could coat his suddenly dry throat, and managed to ask, “Yeah, kiddo?”

Emerald eyes flashed behind circular glasses. Sev wasn’t sure if that was a good flash or one that spelled certain doom for all involved. There was a long stretch of silence, and then, just like that, Harry was asking a question.

“Do you need to use the toilet?”

Sirius snickered behind his palm because he was immature like that. It was the most glorious noise Severus had ever heard.

“I don’t thinks so,” Snape answered, his lips turned up into a hesitant half-grin. “Why do you ask, Harry?”

“You just—“ Harry shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that didn’t quite convey what Harry had probably been hoping for. “You looked like you were going to puke again.”

Severus ran a shaky hard through his black hair and tried his best to hide the sudden lump in his throat. “Did I?”

“Still do actually,” Harry admitted, his gaze critical in it’s level of scrutiny but sincere in it’s guilelessness. 

No one dared interrupt the silence that followed, for Harry was talking and it wasn’t laced with anger or worry or anything like that. He seemed, more than anything, curious about something. The five others simply waited for another question to spill from the young wizard’s mouth.

“What are you thinking about, Steven,” Harry voiced finally. “When you look like your about to puke, what is it that’s on your mind?”

Severus’s gaze danced around the room, meeting everyone else’s and no one else’s. Finally it settled on the wide silver eyes of Draco Sirius Black. The blonde smiled slightly at his godfather and raised a hand to tap the Slytherin crest on the sweater vest he still wore. It seemed so long ago now, but it had only been just that morning that Snape had watched his house win the House Cup. 

My, my, my, how agonizingly slow life can be when events have thrown you off the course you set out for yourself, right Severus?

Snape zeroed in on that long, pale finger and realized in an instant what Draco was trying to tell him. 

Are you suggesting I not draw out the inevitable and just get it over with like a bloody Gryffindor?

I think Harry would appreciate it.

Sev leaned back in his chair and ran another hand through his hair. After a few seconds of hesitation, Snape finally gave in, heaving a long sigh. “I think about Voldemort, Harry,” he finally managed. “I think about how he’s like a parasite, like a virus. He’s loveless and horrible and I wish every single day that he never existed. And to think that he was in my school, to think that he walked the same hallways, sat a few seats away from me at supper, was alone in a classroom with a bunch of children, my children, every single day for a year—“ Snape rubbed at his face quickly to staunch the inevitable sob and continued. “I mean, the Druid said he was close, but I thought Hogsmeade close, not sleeping-in-chambers-just-down-the-hall close. And all that time I spent in town on Hogsmeade trips keeping an eye on all the upperclassmen and he wasn’t even there. No, of course not. I left him alone to plot his revenge on a boy who did nothing except be born during the wrong month—“

“Severus.” Once again, Remus gave his warning in a growl of a first name. 

Snape understood the warning. He knew. Nobody had gotten to the prophecy portion of their spill-all confessions. Most likely, Remus and Sirius never wanted to tell Harry about the prophecy, let alone Tonks and Draco.

But Snape also knew it was important. The prophecy was integral in some way. He just knew it.

“What do you mean, the Druid?”

For the first sentence Sirius Black had uttered all evening, Severus couldn’t help but give the man a figurative gold star for making it a good one. It tilted Snape so far off balance that he almost fell out of his chair. He pushed himself back from the table, feeling confined being stuck between the chair and the table, staggered to his feet, and began pacing the length of the dining room, his steps slightly off-kilter. Sirius had twisted around in his seat, and five pairs of eyes watched Snape in bewilderment.

Severus ran a hand through his hair again and had the inane thought that he should really stop doing that since it would make his hair all greasy. After that foolish bit of vanity, his mind was flooded with thought after nonsensical thought. It felt like hours but could only have been a few dozen seconds when Snape stopped pacing, took a nice, long look at himself in the mirror in front of him, and sighed in defeat. He twisted around to face the others, stepped up to Sirius, grabbed his face, and gave the man a quick brush of lips to the top of his head.

“What was that for,” Sirius asked when Sev pulled away, his voice faint and wondrous.

“It gave me comfort,” Severus admitted with a shrug. “And after what I’m about to tell you, I think you’ll be too angry to let me ever do it again.”

Remus baulked from behind Sirius, but Sirius himself looked more like Snape had just broken his heart, like a wounded animal with a shotgun aimed at his head. Severus’s father used to shoot the deer he had just run over without remorse or an ounce of hesitation. Snape really wished he hadn’t just reminded himself of his father, because that suddenly made this a thousand times harder.

“Harry, Draco,” Severus began, his gaze never veering from Sirius’s own. “A few months ago, your father, your uncle Remus, and Tonks went to Romania to talk to a Druid. This Druid helps a group of werewolves who live in the forests. He’s also the one who made those orbs Charlie gave us all for Christmas. Anyway, when the three of them managed to meet with the Druid, the Druid was less than helpful—”

“To say the least,” Sirius muttered.

Trying his best to ignore his fidgeting best friend, Snape continued. “His answers were cryptic; they never made any sense. And the next moment the three of them were forcibly removed from the Druid’s hut and couldn’t seek an audience with the man again.” Severus took a stuttering breath. He’d never let himself be so plainly open in his life, but for the moment, his Godson was right. A Gryffindor way of unburdening one’s self was the only solution. He had to be direct. “Sirius gave me the memory of this meeting to see if I could make heads or tails of it. At first, I was just as frustrated as they were. I almost gave up. I wish I had. Because, on my last attempt, I walked over to a window, thought the view beautiful, and the Druid asked, ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ 

Remus and Tonks didn’t exactly gasp, but they inhaled slightly as if they still didn’t quite understand or believe what he was telling them. Draco and Harry were listening with rapt attention. And Sirius stopped fidgeting, his expression brightening like a light bulb had gone off. Snape found that reaction the most curious.

“It took me much persuasion, but eventually the Druid had convinced me that he was indeed talking to me in Sirius’s memory. I asked him where Voldemort was. He said, ‘Close.’” 

Sirius mouthed the word with him, nodding his head like he’d finally figured something out and it was both glorious and awful. 

“I asked him if Hogwarts was safe. He said, ‘No. It has been infiltrated by the enemy.’” 

Sirius beamed. 

“I asked him if we would succeed.” He said, ‘If you—‘“

“—let the stars guide you,” Sirius finished for him, chuckling without an ounce of humor in the laughter, but chuckling none the less.

“Yeah,” Snape confirmed.

“What the bloody hell does that mean,” Tonks asked.

“And why didn’t you tell us all this before,” Remus added, looking extremely peeved.

As if of the same mind, Sirius and Severus turned their attention in tandem on Harry.

“Because… ‘She said more after you left,’” Sirius quoted, his silver eyes going watery. “Oh Severus.”

Somewhere along the way, the injured little deer that was Sirius Black had been healed and somehow obtained a shotgun of his own. Severus had unwittingly taught him how to use it by his little speech. And now the two of them had their focus on a brave little fawn who they were beginning to understand would have to be reluctantly trained as well.

Snape had the sudden urge to laugh when he imagined the look on Sirius’s face if Snape had tried to explain that convoluted muggle metaphor to him. It was a humorous image.

“I never listened to the end of the prophecy,” Severus said instead.

Sirius nodded and over the man’s shoulder, Severus could see Remus starting to get it, his eyes growing more and more haunted by the second.

“Why are we taking heed in divination? I assumed none of us believed in such rot,” Tonks asked, clearly annoyed she was out of the loop, but not enough to keep her thoughts to herself.

“It’s the only way we’ll win, Flash,” Remus reminded her, his tone laced with dread. Severus could relate.

“Destiny. I loathe destiny,” Snape mused aloud, remembering the similar sentiments he made a couple months ago.

“So…” Four pairs of eyes flashed over to Draco whose white-blond eyebrows practically disappeared behind his fringe. “Apparently there’s a prophesy? That’s… cool. One thing I don’t get though. What exactly does this have to do with Harry?

***

“Okay, Harry, let me see if I have this correct… Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort— has been possessed by him this whole year, hiding the evidence under a turban? Hogwarts was housing the Sorcerer’s Stone underneath it’s grounds, protected by multiple safeguards including a cerberus? The stone was ultimately concealed inside the Mirror of Erised and Voldemort assumed Dumbledore had made you into some kind of key, so Quirrell made arrangements to have you kidnapped? And Voldemort’s assumption was correct as you were able to get the stone out of the mirror when neither he, nor Quirrell, could? They saw that you had retrieved the stone and tried to take it by force, but you were protected by a spell your mother placed on you as a baby— the same one that saved you from Voldemort’s killing curse and left you with only a scar? This spell drained a lot of your magic, making it so you were in a coma for a fortnight, but right before you passed out, you saw Professor Snape try to come to your rescue? And Severus Snape is actually my friend of over a decade, Steven Prince, who has had to swallow far too much polyjuice potion in his lifetime than I am frankly comfortable with, in order to protect his friends and family from the eventuality of Voldemort’s return, because he can’t be seen having any sort of attachments and still retain his role as the Dark Lord’s most trusted follower?”

Frank Longbottom paused for a short moment. He glanced around his sitting room, making eye contact with each and every person gathered before him. Sirius, then Remus, stopping on Steven for a second longer than everyone else, then his wife, before returning his attention to Harry. 

“Somehow, I am to make a statement to the public out of what you have just told me without giving away anything that might endanger you and Severus… and anyone really, including me and my family? I have to make the information involving Voldemort believable, because surely most of the wizarding world will not trust the word of an eleven-year-old who just woke up from a coma… and isn’t that just bloody frustrating?! And let’s be honest, I really don’t want to believe this story either, because it’s Gods damn awful and bloody terrifying, so I’m constantly having to remind myself that I’m not currently asleep and trapped in a terrible nightmare!”

Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation before he finally, after a very extensive debriefing that he executed entirely in a standing position, collapsed into the sofa behind him next to Aunt Alice. He rested his cheek on the palm of his hand and stared despondently at the door that lead to the hallway. “Tell me,” he asked the room at large, waving his free hand lazily about, “am I missing anything?”

Harry shot a look over at Sirius, who nodded his head in answer to Harry’s unasked question. Harry turned back to Frank. “Sirius made arrangements to hear the whole prophecy regarding Voldemort and I. We’re going to the Department of Mysteries after this meeting. We— uh…” Harry felt his words falter when the Longbottoms’ gazes flashed over to Harry’s lightning quick, almost as if they’d been electrocuted. There was a long moment of silence, but Harry had never been one for backing down from what needed to be said. He took a deep breath and forged on. “Well, we’re fairly certain this prophecy is about me, but there’s a chance it could be about Neville.”

Frank’s face paled even more than it already had during the first part of their conversation. Harry was unsurprised. Frank’s skin color had finally reached the same level of ghostly white that Sirius, Remus, and Steven had been sporting recently.

Alice simply gaped in disbelief.

Frank’s eyes drifted over to Sirius, his exhaustion evident. “This prophesy, is it the same one you told us about… almost a dozen years ago?”

Sirius nodded his head in answer. 

Frank inclined his head in acknowledgement. “And you’re saying Neville should be there.”

“Frank, I would never tell you how to handle this situation with your own child,” Sirius assured him.

Uncle Frank’s attention focused on Harry for a brief second before returning to Sirius. “I appreciate that, lad. But now I’m asking, alright? What do you think we should do? If you were me, what would you do?”

Harry couldn’t say he way necessarily surprised by his uncle’s question. Asking advice of Lord Sirius Black was sometimes as easy as breathing air, no matter how strange it might seem from the outside looking in. Still Harry couldn’t help but widen his eyes in shock at just how quickly Frank had accepted everything Harry told him mere moments ago. To continue trusting Sirius after lying for so long about Steven’s true identity… that seemed too good to be true. But then again, Harry had been quick to forgive as well. 

Harry’s godfather was a hard person to stay mad at. Harry only had so much anger inside him, and right now, every ounce of it was focused on Tom Riddle, Voldemort, and the cursed artifacts with pieces of Voldemort’s soul forced inside them still hidden somewhere in their world. It was a waste to spend all of that energy hating Sirius and Steven when there was someone worthy of that rage sill out there. Besides…

Harry tilted his head over to the three men sitting on his left and smiled.

Besides, he loved them too much.

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he considered Frank’s question. Finally he faced the couple sitting across from him and grimaced. “Truth is, I’ve had some pretty terrible weeks in my lifetime. But last week… last week took the cake. And there were things I could have done to save myself the heartache. I could have figured out another lie. I could have erased their memories. I could have foisted off my confessions to someone else so I wouldn’t have to be the one to see their faces. I just wanted my boys to be little forever, you know? I wanted them to stay innocent. But the universe doesn’t want them to be little and innocent. And Draco and Harry don’t want to stay little and innocent either. I can understand that. So… I didn’t do any of those things I mentioned earlier. Instead, I told them everything. Snape and Voldemort and the Order and horcruxes and the prophecy. And then I waited and hoped… I hoped that they’d understand why I never explained all this before and why I never wanted to.”

Harry nodded his head, answering the question Sirius had been too afraid to ask outright. Harry answered for himself and for his brother in the next room eating lunch with Neville and Tonks. The two siblings had spent a lot of time in the treehouse these last three days discussing everything they’d learned, and while there were parts that still bothered them, they had reached a conclusion that put the two of them on the same page. And that page was basically: Voldemort wasn’t tearing this family apart no matter how hard he tried. 

Maybe that made Harry and Draco naive. So be it.

Everyone’s gaze shifted at the motion of Harry’s bobbing head and that seemed to calm everyone in the room down, like they had all been holding there breaths, readying themselves for the inevitable blow, and Harry had pulled them into a hug instead.

Sirius’s lips quirked up unconsciously as he returned his attention to the Longbottoms. “So you want to know what I would do if I were you? Our situations aren’t so different, so basically, I just told you. Sev, Remus, and I… we were your test subjects here. I won’t tell you what to do, but I will say that I think you should do what you think is right with the information you’ve been given.”

And with that, Sirius concluded his advice by collapsing back into the sofa in the Longbottom’s living room. He reached out blindly for Harry and tried to coax him into a cuddle. Harry didn’t need much coaxing and went willingly into the embrace, folding himself against Sirius’s side and pushing his face into the man’s chest. Sirius smelled like home.

After a while, the Longbottom’s having left to discuss their options in private, Remus and Steven vacated the antique chairs they’d been uncomfortably sitting in all morning and settled together on the sofa Alice and Frank had just vacated. Harry smiled over at them as Sirius carded a hand through his hair.

“You need a haircut, kid.” Sirius groaned, reaching up to tuck wayward strands down to stop them from tickling his chin

“I’ve heard,” Harry grumbled, making no motion to alleviate his godfather from his torture. “I kind of like it long though.”

“Me too,” Steven murmured hesitantly, his voice almost too soft to make out the words as if he weren’t sure he had permission to speak.

Remus’s responding snort was anything but quiet and any tension that was left in the room vanished in an instant. “That’s just because he reminds you too much of a first-year-James when his hair’s short, Sev.”

Severus (and Harry was just starting to get used to calling him that in his head, even though the man had asked both him and Draco to continue calling him Steven when he was in his polyjuiced form and Snape when he wasn’t, so that they didn’t make a mistake by calling him the wrong name in public in the future) heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I just don’t understand why he couldn’t look a little bit more like Lily. Besides the eyes, Harry, you’re a spitting image of James and that’s just unfair.”

“Unfair to whom,” Sirius asked, his voice tinged with humor from what Harry assumed was a long-standing argument between the three of them. Harry hid his smile in Sirius’s dark blue dress shirt.

“Me,” Steven answered succinctly. “No offense, kiddo, but your father was my greatest tormenter at Hogwarts.”

Harry already knew this. Sirius had explained long ago how James Potter wasn’t the kindest of kids in school, especially to a boy named Severus Snape. Harry feigned offense to the accusation anyway, just to keep the banter going. Remus didn’t disappoint.

“I don’t know,” Remus mused, tapping his chin in a derisive manner. “I can think of someone who gave James a run for his money.”

Sirius gasped in mock offense at the insinuation. “Who could you possibly be referring to, Moony? Surely not little ol’ me?”

Remus snorted and turned to Snape. “Trust me, James might have waxed poetic about how much he despised you, Sev, but Sirius was the one who planned all the pranks to, and I quote, ‘Get back at you for being a git’.”

“I never said such a thing. Don’t you dare believe him Sevie, dear. Remus may have that innocent charm, but don’t be fooled. He lies, I tell you. Lies!”

The next moment, the doors to the den rushed open and Harry lifted his head up just in time to make out the bright blond blur before it was barreling into his side, squashing Harry even further into Sirius’s chest. The two bothers had hardly been apart these last three days, not even for sleep. Draco was really clingy when he wanted to be. Harry didn’t really mind though.

Tonks slunk in when Harry wasn’t paying attention and flung herself across the legs of Remus and Steven who glared at her in return. She twisted her head toward Sirius and said with all the decorum of a slobbering dog, “Frank and Alice invited us for dinner. Any idea why?”

Sirius’s eyes flashed to the doorway just as the Longbottoms stepped into frame. Frank and Alice were smiling nervously while Neville glanced between all of them, his light brown eyes full of confusion and worry.

Sirius squeezed Harry lightly before extracting himself and making his way over to the elder Longbottoms, huddling in close as they had a hushed conversation in the corner of the room. Neville jogged over to the sofa, seeing the vacant spot Sirius’s absence created. Neville and Harry had embraced briefly that morning before having to depart so Harry could give his auror statement. But now the boy leaned in as close as possible, his head falling onto Harry’s shoulder, instantly breathing easier with the proximity. 

Honestly, Harry felt truly humbled with how much everyone seemed to worry and miss him while he was in his coma. He’d spent nearly all of Sunday morning in the treehouse with Draco reading his get-well wishes and the extremely long letters from each of the members of their little study group that the blond had brought home from when attended the last day of school.

Propriety dictated he should start writing those thank you notes soon. Maybe tomorrow.

Nobody spoke while Sirius, Frank, and Alice conversed, but it was a comfortable sort of silence. Harry basked in it, his brother on his right and his best friend on his left. It was nice.

Sirius hobbled over a few minutes later and clapped his hands together. “Alright, time to go,” he announced.

Neville clung to Harry’s arm, and Sirius must have noticed the action. “Don’t worry Nev, we’ll be back for supper. We just have a prior engagement we must attend. Your parents will tell you all about it.”

Harry and Draco glanced up at Sirius at the same time to marvel privately at this announcement. The blond flicked his gaze over to Harry with a raised eyebrow, but quickly schooled his face into one of comprehension. Draco understood the situation quickly. He was a smart boy.

Nev had loosened his grip on Harry’s arm and if possible, looked even more confused than before. But eventually, he leaned over gave Harry and Draco one last group hug and joined his parents.

Tonks darted to her feet in a feat that, frankly, defied gravity, and beamed. “So we’re off to the ministry then?”

Sirius pulled out his pocket watch. “Half one. No time like the present.”

A nervous energy settled over the group as the Longbottoms showed the six of them to their drawing room’s fireplace. Sirius sucked in an exaggerated breath as they approached the floo and nine pairs of eyes looked over at him, deciding to follow his lead. He bounced around on the balls of his feet for a few seconds before he realized how much attention he was garnering.

“What?” He asked the question to the room at large. “It’s de-stressing. You should try it.” Sirius flung his arms wildly as if to exaggerate his point.

Surprisingly, Steven was the first to try it. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up his tense muscles, and it didn’t take long for Remus, Tonks, Draco, and Harry to join him.

Harry hadn’t realized Sirius had stopped flailing and started watching them all with an amused grin until the man started chuckling lightly. “Merlin, you all look ridiculous.” As the five of them stopped bouncing around, Sirius turned to the three Longbottoms and shook his head with mock shame. “I apologize for my family. They can be quite embarrassing.” He then jogged past them all with a wave of his hand, tossed some floo powder into the roaring fire, and called out the Ministry of Magic as he stepped through the flames.

“Sometimes I just want to wring his neck,” Tonks growled as she hastened to follow her cousin.

Remus grabbed Draco’s shoulder and simply shook his head in exasperation as he guided them both through the flames. This left only Harry and his uncle Steven in the drawing room with the Longbottoms. The other family might as well not have been there for how invisible they were in that moment.

Snape looked over at Harry with a small, nervous smile. Harry shrugged his shoulders and smiled widely up at his uncle. “I actually don’t mind when Sirius acts like a git. He reminds me of Draco. Besides, it worked.”

“Yes, I’m far less tense than I was a moment ago,” Severus agreed, his grin widening to match Harry’s. He took a step as if he were about to follow the others, but halted abruptly. Twisting his whole body toward Harry, Snape hunched down slightly so that their eyesights were at an even height, and clapped a steadying hand on the younger wizard’s shoulder. “Are you ready, Harry?”

Harry couldn’t imagine what his life would have been like if he didn’t have his family. A family that was completely unique and brilliant and wholly his own. He tried to picture a world without them, what it would have been like to face Voldemort six storied beneath the school, to make it out of there by the skin of his teeth, to be in a coma for two week, only to wake up… and not have Sirius and Remus and Draco and Steven and Tonks fussing over him. It didn’t bare contemplation. He didn’t want to comprehend a universe such as that. And he wished with all his heart that he would never have to do so.

“Yes, professor. I’m ready.”

***

Sirius had gone through some tough days, some hard weeks, some terrible months, and a few awful years. None of those compared to today, this week, this month, and this year.

When they say you’ll worry for your children more than anyone else in the entire world, they were bloody underselling just how truly, agonizingly, soul-shatteringly scared you’ll be every second of every day or every week of every month of every year after they took their very first breath.

And when Sirius followed his Godson delicately through the hall of prophecy, as the six of them (plus the Hall’s keeper, am old crone that watched them like a griffin) went aisle by aisle trying to locate the one glowing orb in the giant room that would call out Harry’s name, Sirius still idiotically hoped Harry Potter wasn’t the chosen one in the Dark Lord’s prophecy. He hoped they’d leave this room empty-handed and return to the Longbottoms that night for an awkward dinner full of sad news.

But, of course, that’s not what happened.

An hour into their search, Harry stopped. Sirius watched, enraptured, as his son turned toward an orb on the shelf that was just at Harry’s eye level. It was as if the prophecy keeper had placed it in that spot with an eleven-year-old boy’s presence in mind. That thought chilled Sirius to the bone.

Harry reached for it and Sirius twisted toward the the crone of woman on instinct, as if he were actually going to plead, to shout, “Stop him! Tell my son not to pick up a prophecy that’s not his! He’ll go mad from it!”

But she didn’t make a move, and Sirius, as he slowly turned back around, had to resign himself to the fact that Harry was picking up a prophesy that only he could hear because it was about him. Tonks slipped her hand into his and Draco took the other. Behind him, Severus placed a thin hand on his shoulder and Remus rubbed his neck. The wait felt endless.

Finally, Harry blinked out of his trance and stared down at the blackened orb. A single tear fell down his cheek as the boy turned toward the keeper and placed the orb in her waiting hands. She actually managed to look sympathetic for a moment and surprisingly stepped away to give the family their privacy.

Harry’s shoulders drooped and he still had his back turned to the strange creature the five of them made as they huddled together in silence.

“Harry,” Draco called, after the quiet became too much. “You okay?”

Harry nodded slowly and wiped at his eyes before he finally turned around to face them.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,” Harry said in a haunting voice, and all them realized in unison that he was quoting the prophesy he just heard. “Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives—“ Harry choked on the last bit, but it was clear that was the end of the prophecy.

“Oh my gods,” Tonks gasped, hiding her face in her own shoulder as she sobbed quietly. She looked like she wanted apologize for her outburst, but couldn’t get her mouth to work properly. Tonks had been their rock these last few days once she learned of the prophecy about her baby cousin. Apparently it hadn’t been quite real enough for her, it hadn’t truly sunken in what a destiny like this meant, until Harry had uttered it aloud. 

Sirius squeezed her hand in a comforting gesture, but it also reminded him that he could move, that he could breathe, and he sucked in air so fast, he choked on it. He spluttered into an embarrassing coughing fit that had him doubling over. Surprisingly, Harry was the one to pat him on the back and console him out of it. 

When Sirius recovered enough to stand up properly, he stared down into bright, courageous emerald eyes. They stared back at him, unflinching.

“What am I going to do, Dad?”

Sirius disentangled himself from the Sirius-Remus-Severus-Draco-Tonks beast and scooped up Harry Potter like he weighed far less than six stone. Sirius gathered his son as close as he possibly could be without them physically morphing into one singular being.

What was Harry going to do? Apparently, he was meant to murder Voldemort or die trying. Both options were too ghastly to even comprehend at the moment, but Sirius at least knew that option number two would only happen over his dead body. Over Remus’s dead body, too. And over Severus’s dead body. Over Tonks’s. Over everyone’s. Voldemort would have to murder each and every person who loved Harry Potter before he could even touch the boy. Tom Riddle had gotten close before, on October 31, 1981, and even then, Lily’s ghost kept her son our of his hands.

Sirius knew Harry Potter would have to be trained. Not just in defense, but in offense. However, there was no way Sirius would train an eleven-year-old boy to murder someone. No. Way.

So… he supposed they would focus strictly on defense for the time being.

Sirius hadn’t known Harry was squeezing him back just as tightly, until he tried to pull away. Sirius almost lost his balance, but was steadied from behind by Severus. He settled Harry gently back down on the marble floor. Draco practically barreled into them when he saw an opening, and Sirius lifted his arm to let his son sneak underneath it. 

An arm around each of his sons, he nodded his head with sudden conviction. He had a plan. It might not be a permanent one, but his heart could only take so much.

“What you’re going to do— what both of you are going to do,” Sirius stated, inclining his head toward Draco to make sure he was listening, “is learn occlumency.”

Severus hummed his agreement behind them. Remus had lead Tonks away with a comforting arm around her shoulder while she sobbed some time ago, but Sirius was sure the two of them would agree with his statement as well. Even if they didn’t have very important secrets to protect, Sirius never wanted Draco to feel that kind of assault on his mind again. Protecting his children would always be job number one.

Sometimes Sirius thought legilimency should be made into an unforgivable. Although, that wouldn’t really dissuade those who’d mastered the art from performing the invasive spell, just as it didn’t stop them from using the cruciatus curse if they so wanted.

After this statement regarding occlumency, Sirius watched the boys for their reaction. Draco practically sagged with relief at the news. And Harry…

Harry straightened his shoulders and stood tall, looking every bit the vanquisher promised in the prophesy.

Sirius blindly beckoned Severus over with a wave of his hand and once his friend stepped into their circle, the four of them stood together in the hall of prophesy, resolute with their collective burden in life. And it was with that understanding that they took one final shared breath and turned to leave the blue-orbed hell once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> ***
> 
> A/N- …Just kidding. :) There will be a short epilogue posted next week to officially wrap up part 1 and set up for part 2. So look forward to that.
> 
> But in all seriousness, Draco Sirius Black: Book 1 is basically complete! Yay? Boo? Maybe a little bit of both? Either way, this has been amazing you guys. I know I say this in almost every Author’s Note, but thank you. To each and every one of you who have made writing DSB way more fun than I ever thought possible, thank you. This fic was never supposed to be this long or this intricate or this crazy, so thank you, thank you, thank you for being such amazing readers. You’ve made it so I have to keep writing, have to keep living in this strange alternate timeline I created for as long as you let me. So thank you.
> 
> Keep a lookout for the epilogue next week. The title is “Replace Draco”.


	30. 1.E- Replace Draco

Epilogue:

On his fifth birthday, Blaise no-middle-name Zabini finally reached the conclusion that he was unequivocally and categorically unwanted.

This was evidenced by the fact that he received no cake, no presents, and no party. There wasn’t a single banner or balloon. His tutor continued his morning lessons just as scheduled. The cook served him his meals without comment. His latest step-father, Blaise’s third since his birth, was bedridden after his blood malediction symptoms resurfaced. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge his step-son’s presence that afternoon as the boy watched him cough up phlegm for half an hour, as was the boys daily source of entertainment. (Blaise estimated the man would only last another month and half. He was spot on in that assumption.)

No friends were invited to the house, because Blaise only had one friend to speak of: a pet kneazle named Delilah. No one in the household even knew he had a pet so he never had to explain the name. She died after he turned seven. He buried her in the cemetery next to step-father number four for no real reason other than the fact that they both died at the same time and their was a handy shovel nearby.

So yes. All this evidence pointed directly to Blaise Zabini being the most unwanted boy in the world. But even without all this overwhelming proof, that night, his mother had sat him down when he asked why no one had seemed to acknowledge his birthday and explained, in slurred words, how he had been a mistake and how she wished every moment of every day that she could go back in time and not have sex with that stranger in Barbados. 

Basically, Blaise had ruined her life.

He could have been angry. He could have thrown a fit. He could have cried all night. But those options seemed like such a waste of time. So instead, he continued his life as normal.

He did grow sneakier in his pursuits for better meals. And he found loopholes in his schoolwork, learning to only do as much as needed to move on to the next lesson. Thusly, he had a lot of free time and spent much of it hulled up in the study reading books on subjects that he was actually interested in, Delilah curled up in his lap. 

He didn’t hinder his mother’s pursuits for aging and/or dilapidated wealthy men to woo into marriage with her charm, even though it bothered him immensely. Instead, he wrote all his feelings into diary after diary, filling every page before burning the contents until they were a pile of ash in the fireplace. No one would ever get to see behind the mask he’d dawned since age five.

Then Delilah died, and Blaise decided it was time to act. It was made clear long ago that Helena Zabini would never want him. So Blaise would begin his search for a replacement parent, someone who would at least act like they gave a shit about him.

Blaise started attending every one of Helena’s functions, hiding in the background and crossing any man off his list that dared to look at an eight-year-old boy as if he were merely an insect to be swatted away in pursuit of the fair maiden. Those select wealthy few that Blaise was sure his mother might have taken a liking to, were sent home with the image of Lady Zabini puking all over the hippogriff-pelt rug in the Zabini family’s foyer. Or they would have their reputations utterly destroyed in a single night thanks to a few choice words muttered “offhandedly” by Blaise in benign conversations with the other guests. The young wizard had actually gotten quite good at that particular form of subterfuge despite the lack of social graces he had no chance of learning in his solitude during his first eight years of life. It came as quite a surprise to learn how good he was at wooing the public. He supposed he must have inherited something from his mother, and what a handy skill it was. After trying his hand at this form of chicanery, it seemed a waste to use his newly developed cunning on the occasional slip of vomit-inducing potion into Helena’s champagne.

His plans had worked for a long while. That was, until Kilian Essler. 

Essler was a German diplomat with a high-ranking position in the German/Austrian Ministry for Magic. He had his hands in pies all over the world, was considered the most eligible playboy in western Europe, and was currently dying of a tentacula bite that he was taking great pains to keep secret as the poison very slowly inched it’s way toward his heart. In other words, he was perfect sixth-husband material.

Every time Blaise tried to tear the two apart, he failed miserably. And after the fourth function that Essler attended at Helena’s side, Blaise had almost given up. He was sure this man would become his next step-father.

That’s when Lucius Malfoy made his first public appearance in five years.

Blaise had only heard the name in passing, had only gleaned what little information he had about the regal-looking blond man from the few Wizengamot members who had deigned to attend one of Helena Zabini’s gatherings. Clearly the illustrious Lord Malfoy had decided to become a bit of a recluse in recent years. What made him attend this event of all events, Blaise had no idea. But he was suddenly determined to find out.

At first Blaise stuck to the outskirts of the huddled masses that took an interest in Lucius’s presence. But a few minutes into his eavesdropping, Blaise realized this tactic would never prove useful. The others couldn’t even get the man to talk, let alone answer their inquiries. The only thing Blaise learned for certain was Lucius Malfoy did not want to be there. At all. Curious.

Blaise’s questions would probably turn out to be a futile attempt as well, so it was time to consider other options. Blaise looked around the ballroom and spotted a perfectly quiet corner to settle in and wait. They said misery loved company. Perhaps if Blaise made himself look positively annoyed about being there, Lucius would drift toward him unconsciously, like a moth to a flame. He took a seat and looked about as pathetic and sulky as he could muster. It wasn’t a very difficult act to pull off. In fact, this was possibly the most himself he’d ever been at one of Helena’s parties.

Blaise was so lost in thought, he didn’t even realize his personal space had been invaded until a man cleared his throat in an elegant fashion. His vision cleared as he came back to reality and was met with narrowed blue-gray eyes under white lashes. His plan had worked and Blaise found himself surprised by this fact.

“These affairs are dreadfully dull.” 

Lucius’s voice rang out with an aristocracy the likes of which Blaise had never heard before. Oh, Blaise had met many who tried their hand at sounding posh, but it always came off as artificial. But Lucius Malfoy spoke this way as if he’d never thought to hold back an ounce of the wealth that lined his words in the entire time he’d been alive. Some might find that sense of entitlement to be grating, but Blaise Zabini let the galleon-lined cadence wash over him like a hot bath.

Blaise opened his mouth a fraction of an inch before he realized Lucius hadn’t asked him a question, but merely made a statement of fact. Blaise decided it was a test. He wasn’t to agree or disagree on the subject, but simply wait for Lucius to continue. A small quirk of the lips let Blaise know he’d received an outstanding from Lucius for his decision.

“The food, however, is consistently adequate.” 

Lucius indicated the plate of food perched on his knee with a tilt of his head. Somehow, he made the platter dotted with crab cakes and shrimp ceviche look almost like a shield held out in front of him to ward off unwanted chitchat. Apparently, Blaise was the only acceptable source of conversation Lucius could handle, and the young wizard found himself liking this man more and more with each passing minute.

Lucius shifted the plate slightly in Blaise’s direction and he knew it was an offer. Unfortunately, Blaise couldn’t accept. “I am allergic to shellfish, sir,” he explained.

Lucius frowned, not at Blaise, but at the catering staff and their platters full of seafood. He then turned back to Blaise with a raised eyebrow. “And your mother offers these horderves to her guests when she knows her own son might have a severe allergic reaction to them?”

This was the moment of truth. Blaise wracked his brain for the perfect answer to this question, but nothing came to mind. What slipped from his tongue unbidden was, “Quite frankly, I don’t think she cares.”

Blaise flinched at the flash of anger that surged across every corner of Lucius’s angular features. He’d messed this all up. Blaise had clearly been pursuing one last-ditch effort to keep his mother from marrying that bloody man-child Kilian. Of course, Blaise had been fooling himself. The Malfoys were one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the country. What use could Helena Zabini be for the current Lord Malfoy even if Blaise hadn’t buggered it all up and made her sound like a monster. He should have been endearing her to Lucius, not telling him the truth like a stupid child.

Lucius stood up from the bench and Blaise wondered briefly if he’d ever see the man again. It seemed unlikely, especially with Essler most likely whisking his mother and him to Germany soon. Perhaps he should bid Lord Malfoy a last farewell. At least for the most fleeting of moments, Blaise felt appreciated. He should thank Lucius for that.

“Come.”

Blaise blinked blearily up at Lucius who had set his plate of seafood on a nearby table and held out a hand for the confused boy in front of him. Wondrous, Blaise accepted the hand and Lucius lead them both out of the ballroom and into the main hallway of the Zabini family’s small manor.

“Which way to your kitchens,” the older wizard asked.

Blaise took a moment to marvel at the turn of events. He suddenly realized that he’d misread the expression on Lucius’s face moments ago. It wasn’t anger, but open and unplanned protection for a boy he’d just met. And maybe a little bit of anger as well. Real expressions can portray more than one emotion.

“This way,” Blaise said, tugging lightly on the hand still holding his and leading Lucius down the hall and toward the kitchens. For some reason the blonde allowed this action and followed Blaise without complaint.

Upon entering the kitchens, the cook looked up in annoyance, but his expression quickly became one of openmouthed shock when he spotted the wizard being dragged along behind Blaise. The dark-skinned boy looked up at his unusual companion who surveyed the premises like it personally offended him. Finally Lucius’s eyes settled on the cook. “The child is hungry and you are in here preparing an inordinate amount of food he can’t possibly consume due to his allergies. Explain yourself at once.”

“I—. I— I—“

“Oh quit your stammering and prepare his favorite meal this instant,” Lucius demanded.

The cook’s eyes fell onto Blaise in a panic and the boy realized this was because the man never bothered to learn his favorite meal. Instead of answering the unasked question, Blaise found himself smiling guilelessly up at the cook. He’d get an earful tomorrow for his insolence, but right now, he was having far too much fun watching the man squirm.

Lucius’s hand on his shoulder had Blaise returning his attention to the blonde. The man was grinning down at him. “Oh, put the man out of his misery,” Lucius commanded with an elegant roll of his eyes. “He looks as if he’s about to keel over.”

Blaise chuckled lightly at the mental image this provided but did as Lucius asked. “Peanut butter and jam sandwich. Please,” Blaise added, almost as an afterthought.

As the cook quickly got to work on Blaise’s supper, Lucius glanced down at Blaise chidingly. “Now Blaise,” the man began, making the boy blink in surprise at the use of his own name. He wasn’t sure when Lucius learned it or why he bothered. “Certain members of the help don’t deserve your gratitude. This whelp is one of them. He should be replaced.”

Blaise nodded his head in understanding and had to stop himself from bursting into laughter when the jam spreader slipped from the cook’s hand at the casualness with which Lucius spoke of his termination. If only it were that easy, Blaise pondered silently.

Three sandwiches were placed on a plate a few moments later and held out for Blaise. Lucius took the plate and glared at the cook before turning on his heel and heading out of the kitchens. “Come, Blaise,” the man called over his shoulder. “The sheer amount of shellfish in here mustn’t be helping your allergies. We shall dine elsewhere.”

Blaise hastened to follow the older wizard and didn’t even spare a glance for the cook as they both exited the kitchens. Once in the hallway, Lucius poked his head into a few rooms and upon locating the dining room, he opened the double doors magnanimously for Blaise. The boy never felt more special in his entire life than in that singular moment when Lucius smiled down at him and waved the boy to walk past. He was starting to shake a little with how much his heart ached at the simple action. And at how disappointed he’ll surely be in the morning when this whole night ended up feeling like nothing more than a dream.

Blaise took his usual seat at the far end of the table and Lucius took the seat right beside him unquestioningly, placing the sandwich platter neatly in front of Blaise. It was only in that moment that Blaise actually realized he was starving. He looked to his left one last time and saw Lucius watching him, one elbow resting on the oak table with his head tilted toward Blaise, his chin supported by his long graceful fingers. The man nodded politely at the food and without further ado, Blaise tucked into his sandwich.

After he finished the first sandwich, Blaise felt emboldened enough to speak. He turned to Lucius and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he uttered, the two words so genuine they sounded strange as they slipped from between Blaise’s lips.

Lucius inclined his head with a small pleasant smile, his eyes drifting to the clock over the mantle. He sighed. “Since I can’t return to my own home for another hour, I shall be thanking you, Mister Zabini, for providing me with a suitable distraction from those horrid adults your mother acquaints herself with.”

Blaise hummed his agreement as he picked up his second sandwich. “Why can’t you return home,” Blaise inquired. He took a bite, this time choosing to savor the taste as much as he could before things reverted to normal in the Zabini household.

“My evil witch of an ex-wife and her insipid new husband are visiting from South Africa. Apparently they find my present choice of solitude untoward for a wizard of my stature,” Lucius bit out. Seeming to remember where he was, Lucius blinked owlishly down at Blaise. “Are you thirsty, child?”

Blaise made sure to swallow the contents in his mouth before answering. “Yessir.”

Lucius nodded and grabbed a wine glass from one of the table’s many place settings. He waved his wand over the glass, filling it silently with water. Blaise didn’t realize he was beaming until he caught the curious expression on Lucius’s face as he placed the glass down in front of him. He quickly tried to school his face into something more proper.

Lucius chuckled wondrously. “Why do you look so happy? It’s merely water. Please tell me your mother keeps you hydrated. She must care about you at least that much.”

She really didn’t. But Blaise wasn’t about to tell Lucius that. And the water itself wasn’t what had him grinning like a fool moments ago anyway. Blaise took a moment to consider how best to explain himself. “You— you performed magic in front of me. It was… beautiful, sir.”

The blonde gaped down at Blaise for an endless amount of time. Just as he looked like he was about to say something, the doors burst open accompanied by a familiar giggle. The two wizards flashed their attention to Helena and Kilian as they snogged each other senseless by the door. Helena’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Blaise’s sandwich falling from his hands and onto the platter. She shoved Kilian away from her and folded her arms, getting ready to scold her child for merely existing in a room she was currently standing in. Then Lucius moved and her attention snapped suddenly to the blonde.

“Lord Malfoy,” she greeted in surprise, quickly ducking into a curtsy. “I apologize for the intrusion. I had no idea you were in attendance.” Her gaze darted to Blaise again. “Has my son been bothering you? He can be such a nuisance.”

“I have heard that children are bothersome creatures,” Lucius stated matter-of-factly.

Blaise felt his ribs constrict and his throat tighten. Their short time together had come to an end. Blaise found himself devastated by this fact and desperately tried to put his heart back in the lockbox he hid within himself. But it wasn’t working. His heart had grown too big already to fit inside the tiny cage he’d constructed. He was being ridiculous about this. He’d hardly spoken to the man. Why was he shaking so much?

“I wouldn’t know from firsthand experience,” Lucius continued, but his voice sounded distant to Blaise, as if the man had already stepped away, leaving Blaise far, far behind. “I suppose I’m not an authority on the subject of children, but Blaise wasn’t a bother, I assure you, Miss Zabini.” 

Blaise glanced up, astonished to find Lucius still seated next to him. The proximity made him warm all over. Blaise stared at Lucius and listened to the man with rapt attention. 

“In fact… before you barged in here, wrapped around your boy-toy like a wonton whore, Blaise was complimenting me on my magical prowess.” 

Blaise didn’t look at Helena, too focused he was on the way Lucius’s voice filled the large room like a malleable putty. But he didn’t have to look at his mother to know that she flinched at Lucius’s words. They were harsh, yet wonderful.

“Of course I enjoyed being flattered, but I couldn’t help but think an aguamenti spell, something a second year learns at Hogwarts, didn’t warrant the compliment. Then… well, I concluded that your son so very rarely sees magic. And I think that is such a waste, Helena.”

With the authority befitting a king, Lucius rose from his seat and rounded the table to stand directly in front of Lady Zabini.

Through clenched teeth Helena stated, “He is my son, Lucius. And I can do with him what I please.”

Lucius chuckled humorlessly. “You were always such a horrid cow Helena, and—“ The blonde paused, glance back over at Blaise who’d stopped breathing throughout the exchange, before returning his attention back to Blaise’s mother with a look of resolution in his eyes. “And I don’t usually like to reward those who don’t deserve it, but I’m feeling particularly generous today. So, I’m going to do you a favor Hel. I’m going to take Blaise off your greasy, money-hungry, negligent little hands and you— you will leave the country with a hundred million galleons in tow and a husband and child you’ll never have to see again.”

There was a long bout of silence, Blaise too stunned to even inhale a gasp. Helena was mulling over the deal as if it were a trick. Lucius just looked bored.

It was Essler who broke the quiet. The idiot. “A husband? What husband?”

Lucius’s slate blue gaze landed on Essler with disdain. “Me, obviously. Who are you again?”

“The man who was about to ask Helena to marry him.” Essler pulled a ring box from his inside robe pockets and presented it to Helena.

“Excellent,” Lucius proclaimed, snatching the ring from it’s box. “My proposal was ill-planned, but I’m grateful someone brought a ring.” Lucius, none-too-gently, shoved the diamond onto Helena’s fourth finger. “It will be a pleasure to be married to me, I’m sure. I’ll have the marriage license and adoption papers drawn up and sent to you to be signed tomorrow, along with a key to a bank vault in your name. After that, if you come near me or my son again,” Lucius threatened, his voice dropping low and dripping with menace, “I will have your memories replaced with endless nights of you drowning in the Great Lake, and keep you trapped in the Janus Thickey Ward for the rest of your days.”

And with that, Lucius took a graceful side-step and began his exit, calling for Blaise to follow over his shoulder. The dark-skinned boy stood from the table on shaky legs, but found his gait to be more confident with every step closer to Lucius. The click-clack of his expensive loafer on hardwood were drowned out by the way Blaise kept replaying the way Lucius said, “My son,” over and over again in his head. He’d never heard those words spoken with such conviction before. It was overwhelming.

Just as he was about to pass his mother, Helena’s hand shot out and gripped his arm, halting him mid-step.

“Blaise—“

“If I had it my way,” Blaise interrupted, looking up into dark brown eyes for the last time in his life, “You wouldn’t received a single knut. In fact, I’d skip the threat and go straight for the drowning.” 

Blaise wrenched his arm from Helena’s grasp, straightened his back, smoothed down his robes, and stepped the last of the way toward a waiting Lucius Malfoy. The man clasped him on the shoulder and squeezed it in understanding before motioning them back out the front doors Lucius had used to enter the manor mere hours ago. 

Only when they were alone in the gardens did Lucius start chuckling hysterically. “This is absurd,” he cackled, doubling over with laughter and using Blaise’s shoulder as a fence post. “Oh my Gods,” he rasped. “Evelyn is going to shit bricks when I bring you home with me. She sends me into the public for the first time in years— and I— I adopt an eight-year-old child!”

Blaise didn’t know how to react, so he stood motionless as Lucius calmed down enough to stand up straight once more. The blonde twisted toward Blaise, grabbed the boy’s chin and angled it up until they were staring into each other’s eyes, chocolate brown to stormy ocean blue. They stood like that for a long while until finally Lucius nodded his head, resolute in what he found in Blaise’s dark gaze.

“Come, Blaise. Malfoy Manor has more magic to see in the foyer than you’ve probably witnessed in your entire life.”

Blaise tried his best to hide a sigh of relief. Lucius hadn’t changed his mind about adopting him. He was fairly certain he hadn’t succeeded with his suppression, but Lucius made no comment.

As the two of them made their way to the apparition site, Blaise suddenly remembered that tomorrow was his ninth birthday. He couldn’t have asked for a better gift than one Lucius Malfoy.

***

Blaise Zabini-Malfoy couldn’t be happier with his life. Living at the Manor with Lucius had been chockfull of delightful discovery. It started with books that turned the page with a simple thought and oven-roasted duck appearing on his plate immediately after he finished his salad. Then there was the hall of portraits where he asked every question under the sun until he felt like he knew the Malfoy family lineage backwards and forwards. The library was brimming with tomes he’d never read before and he could find an unusual magical instrument in every nook and cranny of his new father’s study.

When Lucius heard he’d missed Blaise’s birthday, he took the boy to Diagon Alley and spent an enormous amount of money at each and every shop that existed including the owl emporium where Blaise purchased a black eagle owl that he named Alfalfa. The father and son spent most of their time in Quality Quidditch Supplies that day as Lucius explained how the game worked. He purchased a practice broom and promised to take Blaise flying for the first time the following day.

Blaise took such a liking to the sport that Lucius’s announcement at dinner a year later that they would be attending the Wold Cup in France had Blaise grinning for weeks.

Before the match started Blaise and Lucius walked the grounds so that Blaise could marvel at all the magic involved in the event. Suddenly, Lucius stopped when he spotted a group of witches and wizards in the distance and made a bee-line for the ensemble as if possessed. Blaise followed behind him curiously.

“Associating with a Weasley, Black? What has this world come to?”

Blaise watched as his father’s words had the once happy faces of the five adult wizards turning sour.

"Hey—" The girl with wild purple hair was stopped when a tall brunette man with a chin that could cut glass placed a hand on her shoulder to stifle her words. She looked over at him and he gave a curt shake of his head. She nodded in comprehension and remained quiet after that.

"Oh joy, Malfoy's here," the man Blaise’s father had called Black crowed. Blaise wasn’t exactly surprised by the tone. It was clear Black and the others didn’t really care for Lucius. But it still stung to hear such derisive words directed toward the only person in the whole world Blaise cared for. "I can die happy now." 

Blaise snorted despite himself and brought a hand quickly to his mouth to hide his amusement. Everyone’s attention was on Blaise in a millisecond. Including Lucius’s. And he did not look happy. 

“Hello,” Black greeted, his smile blindingly bright in the afternoon sun. “And you are?"

"I'm—"

"This is my son," Lucius interrupted.

My son.

Blaise sighed thankfully for this small blessing. He was always so worried that he’d lose Lucius. He was usually so careful in regards to what he said and did around his father because he absolutely could not lose Lucius Malfoy. He couldn’t return to a world without him now that he knew what he’d be missing.

The group of eight stared completely dumbfounded at Blaise. He knew that he looked exactly the opposite of Lucius as one could get so it wasn’t any wonder. 

"Well," Black said, "of course he is. He's a spitting image of you Lucius."

"I'm his stepson," the boy clarified, smiling guilelessly up at the group, but staring pointedly at Lucius to make sure he understood that adding “step” to the explanation was for clarification purposes only. “Blaise Zabini—“

"Oh, how is Helena," Sirius asked, interrupting Blaise before he could finish the Malfoy part of his hyphenated name. Perhaps he should just go by Blaise Malfoy from now on if the name Zabini only reminded people of his mother. "I haven't seen her at a Wizengamot meeting in a while."

"Well obviously," Blaise drawled, rolling his eyes just as Lucius instructed him to do when anyone asks about his mother. "She only goes to those things to meet men. She snagged herself this one a few months back."

The man with the chin burst into laughter, earning a cold glare from Lucius. "And who are you," his father sneered.

"Steven Prince," he answered.

“Prince,” Lucius repeated. Blaise had recognized the surname as well from some old pureblood lineage book. “That's an old wizarding family name I thought died out."

Steven smirked. "Well then it probably did," he said. "I'm a muggleborn. The name is just a coincidence I suppose."

Blaise watched his father’s lip curl in disgust and he whipped around and started striding away. “Come, Blaise."

Blaise rolled his eyes at his father's back but followed anyway, sending a quick wave over his shoulder in farewell. He barely got a chance to look at the three children watching the exchange. They seemed to be about Blaise’s age. He could have used some information on the wizarding world from a normal child’s perspective. But Lucius had dangled the fruit in front of Blaise when he strode up to the group a few minutes ago, and snatched it away just as quickly with his retreat. It was bloody frustrating.

The father and son were silent until they made it to their private viewing box. Blaise watched by the door as Lucius paced back and forth across the eight meter room, grumbling to himself, Blaise only able to hear bits and pieces.

“…bad enough Sirius associates with half-bloods… adopted that whelp of a savior and even he’s a half-blood… now those hovel-dwelling ginger blood-traitors… that Steven Prince, mudblood scum… he doesn’t understand the value of pureblood society… imbecilic arse… outlawing house-elf compulsion… undermining my authority in the Wizengamot… so many people in his viewing box… that boy of his… hate him…”

Blaise waited patiently for Lucius to run out of steam, but something came over him and before Blaise could stop himself, he mumbled, “You adopted a half-blood…” The dark-skinned boy stared despondently out the window onto the green quidditch pitch beyond. An uncomfortable silence settled over the tiny room and he realized Lucius had stopped pacing and was now glaring at Blaise.

“Excuse me.”

Blaise blinked. He had only heard this tone used by Lucius once before and it hadn’t been directed at him, but at his mother. It scared the daylights out of him. Gods, Blaise really didn’t want to be associated with that horrible witch any longer.

“I— I mean… I don’t know for certain if he was—“

Lucius stalked his way over to Blaise and crowded the boy against the wall, his cloudy blue eyes narrowed on him in a way that had Blaise’s heart racing under his quidditch robes. “Malfoys are not half-bloods.”

Blaise felt his breath hitch. He’d long ago given up on that lockbox that once held his heart, but perhaps it was time to build a new one. 

But… no. 

Blaise was a Malfoy now. He might have been lucky that night when Lucius claimed him as his own, but this situation was what Blaise had been working toward for nearly three years. He got someone to want him and he wasn’t letting that go unless it bloody-well killed him.

Blaise straightened his back, and stared unflinchingly up at Lucius. “Well then I suppose I was mistaken. I can’t be a half-blood. My apologies, father.”

Lucius took a step back as if he’d been slapped. Blaise could see the man’s mind reeling behind his eyes. Then, all-at-once, Lucius stopped thinking and grinned devilishly down at Blaise. “Interesting,” he mused aloud.

Blaise grinned back conspiratorially. “Sir,” he began, “will you tell me about him?”

“About Black? What do you want to know about him?”

“Everything,” Blaise answered emphatically.

“Why,” Lucius asked a little warily.

“I’ve learned that the best way to take a man down is to discover their weaknesses.”

“Why do you want to take Sirius down, son,” Lucius inquired.

Blaise took a step closer to Lucius and smoothed down his quidditch robes, before smirking up at his father. “Because you want him destroyed. Don’t you?”

Lucius worked his jaw as he mulled over the question. “I do now,” he admitted. “But I don’t see how you’ll be able to accomplish such a task.”

“Tell me everything you know about Sirius Black and I’ll find a way,” Blaise promised.

Lucius snorted. “Even if I believed you could, I would never ask you to do such a thing.” 

Blaise blinked owlishly, suddenly confused. “Why not?”

“You aren’t some pawn, Blaise. If I can help it, Malfoys will never be pawns again.”

Blaise took a moment to consider this statement. He’d learned quite a bit about his father over this past year and had assumed Lucius had adopted him as a replacement for the child he could never have. Nothing more or less. Blaise was a convenience, something to keep the vultures off of Lucius’s back, an heir to raise and keep the Malfoy line going. Blaise had never considered that Lucius Malfoy truly wanted him, that he was the son Lucius genuinely hoped for. Out of pity, out of necessity, out of image; these were how Blaise viewed his adoption. Now— now he wasn’t so sure.

“Then…” Blaise paused, letting the single word fill the tiny Quidditch box with purpose. Lucius glanced up and the two wizards stared at each other for a long time. “Perhaps we should stop playing chess,” Blaise finished.

Lucius raised a thin blond eyebrow. “And what do you suggest we play instead?”

“Poker.”

“Poker?” Lucius seemed dubious about the suggestion.

“The chips are already stacked in our favor, father,” Blaise explained. “We’ll keep an eye out for tells, be patient, and wait for the cards to work for us. Or we’ll get really good at bluffing.”

“And how do you suggest we win?”

“Subtly,” Blaise answered. “We’ll make ourselves look weak and benign, so no one will ever see us as a threat.”

“And without them even realizing, we’re seated at the final table,” Lucius concluded.

“And we barely had to do a thing.”

Lucius nodded. “Sit,” he commanded, motioning them over to the sofa. Blaise took a seat without question. With a flick of Lucius’s wand, tea was being served for the two of them. Blaise picked up his teacup and sipped the light blend. Lucius mirrored him, smiling around the lip of the cup like a weight that had been on his shoulders for years had been lifted. “So,” Lucius began, setting his cup of tea gently back onto it’s saucer, “let me tell you about Sirius Black.”

***

“Hot off the presses,” Adrian Kovac announced in his thick Hungarian accent, dropping the latest issue of the Daily Prophet onto Blaise’s bed next to his half-packed trunk. 

Blaise barely glanced in it’s direction. Instead he asked his roommate, “Anything new to report?”

Kovac snorted. “Please. Your country’s paper is full of lies, like normal.”

“And Kristof,” Blaise inquired as he folded another pair of trousers and placed it into his trunk.

“Apparently rumor at Hog’varts is Harry Potter ‘vent to stop professor from stealing a stone. Kristof’s cousin s’vears it to be true.”

Blaise nodded. “Thank you, Adrian.”

Adrian belted out a delightful laugh. “It has been fun, my friend. I shall miss it next year.”

Blaise finished the last bit of packing and finally turned around to face his Durmstrang roommate, grinning knowingly. “Will you wither away in boredom without me?”

“Of course.”

Blaise chuckled. “Stay out of trouble though. If I hear you fell into Karkaroff’s pervy little hands, I will be forced to come back and save you.”

“Maybe it ‘vill be ‘vorth it just to see you again.”

The two first years raised their eyebrows in unison. “No, it wouldn’t,” Blaise persuaded, giving an involuntary shudder at the thought.

“No, you are right,” Adrian agreed.

Despite Karkaroff and the frigid climate, Blaise was surprised to find that he enjoyed his short time at Durmstrang Institute. That had mostly to do with Adrian Kovac and his other schoolmates in the network of informants Blaise created to keep in the know of the goings on at Hogwarts. 

Of course, he couldn’t wait to be rid of this place and finally start his life as a Slytherin at Hogwarts. It had been a calculated decision on him and his father’s part to let Harry Potter and Draco Black’s first year at Hogwarts play out without Blaise Malfoy. If what he heard regarding the dangerous events that transpired over the school year for the two of them were at all true, Blaise was certain he and his father made the right decision by staying out of it. Now the Malfoys could jump into the fray with zero problems standing out amongst the crowds. Their plan was working out perfectly. It was time for the Malfoys to show their cards, so to speak.

His international portkey home had him arriving at the manor without a hitch a few hours later. After dropping his trunk off in his bedroom, he made a beeline for Lucius’s study. He entered and settled himself in the chair across from Lucius, who was currently staring down at a letter in his hands, his lips pressed into a hard line as his eyes skimmed over the contents.

“How were your last few weeks of classes,” Lucius inquired without looking up from the missive.

“Fine,” Blaise answered in a bored voice, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his black robes.

“Did you say goodbye to your friends?”

“Yessir.”

Lucius still hadn’t looked up from his letter and Blaise was starting to get a little worried, all the more so when Lucius mumbled, “Perhaps you shouldn’t have.”

“Father?”

Lucius finally looked up from the letter and Blaise inclined his head in its direction, inquiring silently as to its contents. “Ah,” Lucius said. “Well it seems Arthur Weasley is searching manors all over the country for dark artifacts. Isn’t that lovely.” Lucius’s fingers clenched so hard it started creasing the ministry-grade hard-stock paper.

“What constitutes a dark artifact,” Blaise asked, his voice tinged with anxiety.

“The letter doesn’t specify, but if Weasley is involved, I’m certain he’ll be confiscating my portrait of Nicholas Malfoy.”

“You have far more dangerous items in this house than Great-great-great-great-grandfather Nick’s portrait.”

“I’m well aware,” Lucius grunted, crumpling the letter completely into his balled fist.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Blaise hummed as he pondered their predicament. He tapped the desk with a finger, an inkling of an idea surging forth. “Weasley probably won’t be excavating the Manors himself, correct?”

Lucius took a moment to consider his question. “No. Most likely it will be some Ministry grunts working for little pay.”

Blaise looked around the study, a rather large room considering how small most studies are. And this was only one of nearly a dozen in the Manor. “Malfoy Manor is quite a daunting task, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucius’s lip curled and it was nice to see such a familiar expression on the blonde’s face. “Indeed.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to scour this place looking for artifacts that might possibly maim and/or kill me.”

“Yes you would,” Lucius countered. “And you have. That is why I had to ward that room in the dungeons, remember?”

“Yes. Quite right,” Blaise conceded. “But… it is abundantly clear that I do not think like an ordinary wizard. And those Ministry grunts will not want to search every corner of this place with a probity probe.”

“So… You want us to make it easy for them,” Lucius stated, starting to understand.

“When they arrive, we will have gathered a nice collection of artifacts neither of us want anyway, hand them over, and tell them to have a nice day,” Blaise affirmed.

“Hmph,” Lucius grunted, falling back into his leather office chair and tossing the Ministry letter into a nearby bin. “That is brilliant, son. Quite brilliant indeed.” Blaise beamed at the compliment. “Of course, I’ll still be concocting a plan to get revenge on Arthur for this tedious annoyance. I was thinking… dark object planted on one of his many insipid little children. Maybe have them take the object to Hogwarts and let it wreak havoc on the school. Perhaps that will finally convince the board to sack that bumbling oaf of a headmaster. Two birds, one stone.”

“Is this plan why you don’t want me attending Hogwarts next year,” Blaise asked.

Lucius halted his scheming and looked up at Blaise in confusion. “What?”

Blaise sighed. “Father, you suggested earlier that perhaps I shouldn’t have said goodbye to my friends. It sounded like you were possibly thinking of sending me back to Durmstrang for a second year.”

“I had considered it,” Lucius confirmed suddenly unable to meet his son’s chocolate-colored eyes.

“Why, father? Does this— does this have anything to do with these rumors circulating about Voldemort—“

“DO NOT SAY HIS NAME!” Lucius’s palms slammed on the desk, emphasizing his demand. 

Blaise flinched, cowering into his seat cushions like they could hide him from Lucius’s wrath. It wasn’t needed for Lucius quickly recovered, fixing the strand of blonde hair that had fallen free from its clasp in his anger back into it’s proper hold.

“And of course it has nothing to do with those ridiculous rumors. The Dark Lord is dead.”

Blaise’s gaze flashed to Lucius’s left forearm, covered with a thick robe even though it was the middle of summer. The blonde was rubbing the spot where a dark mark would be with his right hand absently.

Sure. Like I’m going to believe that, when you so clearly don’t.

Instead of saying that aloud, Blaise asked, “So why the change of plans, then?”

Lucius stopped his fidgeting and regarded Blaise warmly. “I don’t trust that you’ll be safe there.” Lucius winced at his own words, clearly bothered by how soft he sounded. But he didn’t take them back or say anything else to gloss over the statement.

Blaise’s cheeks warmed, but he didn’t let the awkward silence stretch for too long. Neither of them were prepared for that kind of tender heart-to-heart. They probably never would be. 

“Father,” he said, leaning forward in his seat, his elbows perched on Lucius’s desk, making sure all focus was on him. “I won’t be any safer in Durmstrang. Dumbledore may be senseless and foolhardy, opening his school up to invasion by those you deem unsafe, but Durmstrang is run by Igor Karkaroff. I will take bumbling oaf over sadist any day.”

Lucius sucked in a breath like Blaise had just hit him with an exploding charm. He looked physically ill at the thought of his son in the same room as Karkaroff. Apparently it had never occurred to the man before just how close the headmaster of Durmstrang could get to his students.

“Unless you send me across the ocean to Ilvermorny or convince Beauxbatons to accept an English native, Hogwarts is our only option. Please father,” Blaise beseeched when Lucius refused to speak. “This was our plan, remember? Don’t give up on the plan. If we delay another year, I fear I won’t ever attend Hogwarts. Please, father. I don’t want to be the only Malfoy in centuries to not be sorted into Slytherin.”

That did it. If Lucius Malfoy regarded anything above all else, it was tradition.

“Well, we can’t have that, now, can we,” Lucius asked rhetorically. “Now, come.” Lucius stood from his seat and rounded the desk, Blaise hopping up to follow him as they exited the study and into the long hallway. “I had Evelyn make your favorite meal for supper.”

“Filet mignon and buttered mushrooms?”

Lucius froze mid-step and blinked worriedly over at Blaise. “Er…”

“Just kidding,” Blaise interrupted, unable to see that horrified look on Lucius’s face a second longer. “It’s still a peanut butter and jam sandwich.”

Lucius frowned, clearly amused but not wanting to outwardly show it, lest Blaise obtain an even larger head than he already has. “Just for that, I’ll have Evelyn eat your sandwiches in front of you while you sit there and watch.”

Blaise smirked. “Only if you want to see the contents later when Aunt Evie throws it back up.”

Lucius scowled. “Ugh, please don’t remind me. How long does morning sickness last anyway?”

“How should I know?”

“You’ve never come across the information in one of your books?”

“Not once.”

“Well,” Lucius mused. “Hopefully Pavo will return soon and take Evelyn off our hands. I really shouldn’t be this close of friends with my ex-wife, you know?”

Blaise shrugged. “I like Aunt Evelyn.”

“You might not like pregnant Aunt Evelyn so much. She’s a menace to society.”

“Can’t wait to meet her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Well, there you go. Blaise Zabini, back and ready to join the DSB fray, officially. You can expect a lot of complications for Draco and company in part 2 now that Zabini-Malfoy will be involved. Things should get interesting.
> 
> So, there will be a pretty long break before I start posting DSB again. I expect it will take a good month or so before I get myself situated and ready to start posting part 2. Sorry for the wait. I might be posting other fics in the meantime, shorter ones that I’ve been working on recently. Hopefully you guys will like those while you’re waiting for Book 2 to come out, so keep a lookout.
> 
> Oh and some people might be wondering if I’m going to post DSB part 2 as a whole new story on this website. The answer is no. I thought about it a lot, but ultimately decided that Draco Sirius Black is just going to be one, very long fan fiction. It sucks, because I know if I listed this story as “Complete” I would get a lot more views, since I know a lot of people who don’t like to read WIPs and tend to only search for complete works (I’m one of those people… I know, I’m awful). However, I’d prefer for my faithful readers, the ones who have stuck by me through this whole amazing process, to not have to go follow or subscribe to an entirely separate work. So there you have it. Decision made. Draco Sirius Black will probably end up being over a million words before I get to list it as “Complete”. Oh well. :)
> 
> See you all again soon. Oh and let me know what relationships and mysteries you want me to resolve in this next part. Thanks.
> 
> Love,
> 
> BingeMac
> 
> Fancasts: (I’m only fancasting people we might meet again in the future. Heavy emphasis on might.)  
> Evelyn Osborn- Charlize Theron  
> Pavo Osborn- Sharlto Copley  
> Adrian Kovac- Louis Hoffman


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